


Footsteps of Thunder

by Untherius



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: Childbirth, Dinosaurs, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Just Married, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Movie(s), Unplanned Pregnancy, pre-industrial combat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2144049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious EMP event brings down the InGen helicopter carrying the survivors of Isla Nublar, those six people must learn to live, work, and survive together if they're to have any hope of making it out of Costa Rica alive, let alone in anything resembling one piece.  They quickly learn that other desperate humans are by far the least of their worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrenchRoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/gifts).



“Bugger,” muttered Robert Muldoon.

“I hate it when he says that,” said Ian Malcolm under his breath.

Alexis Murphy squeaked softly.

Downslope and to the north stretched the metropolis of San Jose. Or, rather, what was left of it. The plume of thick smoke that had been rising from the direction of Costa Rica's capital had tapered off into dozens of small wisps still drifting from various parts of the city.

They'd been smelling it for days, the sharp tang clinging to their nostrils. It was hard to tell how much of the grey haze hovering about the trees was smoke and how much was low clouds and general tropical mist. To the west, Cerro Rabo de Mico rose nearly to eight thousand feet, neatly clearing the grey.

What lay open and raw before them was the first concrete evidence they'd had in days. A veritable sea of charred buildings clearly testified to the source of all the smoke. It seemed that Ian's leading theory, or at least one or more variations of it, was correct. Aircraft had fallen from the sky and, along with vehicle crashes and ruptured gas lines, had set the city on fire. Water pumps had failed, pressure had dropped, and flames had spread unchecked across San Jose and its adjacent municipalities.

What remained unclear was just what had caused the power failures that had likewise knocked the InGen helicopter out of the sky. The images and sounds of that event and its aftermath would remain forever seared into Alan Grant's memory.

Streaks of intense, blue-green light washing through the sky. Sparks bursting inside the helicopter and electrical arcs dancing over every metallic surface. Screams of fear and pain as the craft spun out of control and the screech of rending metal and cracking branches as they'd torn through the forest canopy, coming to a brutally-abrupt rest on the forest floor.

Alexis' and Tim's rising panic as John Hammond had made Alan and Ellie promise to take care of them. The kids' tear-streaked cheeks watching their grandfather die in their arms, his blood on their hands, necks, and faces. Ian's screams as Robert and Alan had re-set his broken leg. Robert's stream of British profanity as Ellie Sattler had washed his velociraptor bite wounds, one puncture and tear at a time, using nothing but rain water collected in upturned leaves.

Alan's own cuts, bruises, and burns, and even the lingering effects of Tim's electrocution less than a day earlier, had seemed minor after that. Nor had it helped that none of them had known where they were. After digging two graves using a piece of broken helicopter blade and saying last rites over John and the pilot, they'd gathered whatever they could salvage and taken off through the jungle.

Alan had eventually had to climb a tree to find their bearings. That was when he'd first spotted the thick smoke plume rising in the north. And so they'd headed in that direction more out of consensus. “Like Moses in the bloody wilderness,” Robert had remarked.

“This sucks,” said Tim.

“Who could have predicted...” Ian began.

“Shut-up!” said Alan and Ellie in unison.

More than once, one or the other of them had threatened Ian with physical violence the next time he said anything about his Chaos Theory. The threats had been empty—mostly. They all know he was right...more or less. It was more that that no one wanted him to be right, because that would have meant that they were all well and truly screwed. That, in turn, was something they all dreaded and were each privately trying to avoid facing. Which was, of course, futile.

“That certainly explains a lot,” said Robert. At that point, virtually anything would have been an improvement in the information department.

The few random locals they'd met between the crash site and their current location hadn't been much help. Each one had given them a different variation of their own: brightly-colored lights in the sky, and then everything electrical had just died, sometimes dramatically.

“Now what?” Lex moaned.

“Well,” said Ellie pensively, “we still need food and medicine.”

They'd run out of both two days before, even with strict rationing. Everyone was hungry and somehow eating insects and snakes had barely cut it and that was only after Robert had basically badgered everyone else into getting over it.

Alan had firmly but gently convinced Lex to eat her snake kidney.

“But it's gross!” she'd complained. “I'm a vegetarian!”

“You need vitamins,” Alan had argued.

“Then give me a Centrum.”

“We don't have any,” Alan had explained as patiently as he could. “We've been over that. This...” He'd held up the roasted organ meat on the end of a stick. “...is...well, think of it as Cave-man vitamins.”

“I'm not a cave man,” she'd growled back.

“Cave woman, then.”

Only after Robert had threatened to hold her down and force-feed it to her had she finally relented. After that, any lingering resistance to eating the wildlife had diminished dramatically.

Everyone's pains had subsided to a relatively dull roar, but Ellie was still worried about the lingering risks of infection. At least pain was the body's way of telling a person that something was wrong, making them less likely to overdo it. The risk of further injury from stressing an existing one while under the influence of narcotics was very real. Fortunately, drinking rain water from leaves had probably saved them from contracting the usual water-borne illnesses.

“Someone has to go down there,” said Ellie.

“I'll go,” said Robert.

“How's your Spanish?” Ian asked.

“Passable.”

“No, Robert,” said Alan, “we need you to keep them...” He nodded at the children. “...safe. It could take a while.”

There were no further complaints, which was a first. Alan shouldered one of the shotguns while Ellie checked the magazine of a revolver and the two of them trudged off toward the wreckage.

* * *

“I got one! I got one!” Tim squealed. The stick he held with both hands twitched violently.

“Set it!” Robert barked.

“I'm working on it,” Tim shot back. He heaved on the stick, throwing his nine-year-old body back with as much force as he could muster. His heel caught on a root and he went down on his backside. A three-pound machaca flew up out of the water after him, hitting him squarely in the face. He yelped.

“Grab it!” said Robert.

Tim fumbled for the fish and grabbed it with both hands.

“Nice one!” said Alan from a few yards away.

Lex turned a bass fillet in a cast-iron skillet nearby. The smoke from their small cooking fire joined thousands more in an ever-expanding ring of refugee camps surrounding Lake Arenal. Water in a beat-up, blue-enameled percolator bubbled at the fire's edge, the scent of fresh coffee wafting up from it.

Ian sat on a nearby log, grunting through the stretching exercises that Ellie insisted were needed to strengthen his tendons. At least he'd stopped complaining about it. Not much, anyway, though when asked, he freely grumbled about how much it still ached. Which wasn't surprising, considering it had barely been two months since the Isla Nublar incident.

Robert flexed his arm again. The wounds he'd received from the Alpha female velociraptor had been nasty. They probably would have been fatal had he not had the presence of mind to reach for a side-arm when she'd pounced on him. A few well-placed rounds had been enough to send her scurrying away. Between his wounds and Ian's broken leg, the carefully-rationed pain medication had been barely enough to keep the edge off, with slightly higher doses to allow sleep.

Despite frequent and careful washing, three separate infections had necessitated even more thorough cleaning and that had meant swearing around sticks held between his teeth. When they'd run out of antibiotics, Ellie had resorted to some cinnamon they'd found in an overturned grocery truck that had crashed on a mountain road. Its effects were adequate, though not quite as good as penicillin.

Robert hadn't been surprised by the San Jose excursion. It had still been a disappointment. But the destruction had been far too extensive. Between unnavigable streets, chaos among the living, and the risk of disease from the dead, Alan and Ellie had turned back. The risks had just been too great.

So they'd circled around to the west, encountering the overturned truck in a ravine just north of Tarbaca when Alan had gone after fresh stream water.

Another month of low-mileage days away from major roads and eating the wildlife had brought them through the Children's Eternal Rain Forest and then to Lake Arenal. They'd had to traverse three quarters of its ten-mile length to find room for a camp.

“It's getting crowded,” said Robert.

“You sound like a Canadian,” said Lex.

“And how many Canadians have you met?”

Alexis regarded the Brit for several moments. “Okay, none, but I've heard stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“You know, the Great White North and all that.”

Robert laughed.

Lex grinned. “You're getting better, Mister Muldoon!”

“Don't get ahead of yourselves,” said Ellie. “We're staying here until you two...” She gestured at Robert and Ian. “...are all healed up. Period.”

“Yes, mother,” said Ian sarcastically.

“I mean it,” said Ellie.

She was right, though. Neither himself nor Ian Malcolm had recovered enough from their injuries to make any sort of meaningful push onward. If they'd had immediate bed rest at a hospital, maybe they'd have been up and about within a couple of weeks and maybe back to something resembling normal in a month, physical therapy notwithstanding. But that hadn't been the case.

Things were far from equal and having two members of the party still effectively handicapped was slowing them down at best. At worst, it could get them all killed if they wound up in an all-out fight-or-flight situation. That was still a distinct possibility--highly probable according to Malcolm--and would have been even in normal times.

“Now,” said Lex, sliding a piece of fish onto a plate, “eat up!”

That brought a few chuckles.

* * *

Robert Muldoon looked down at yet another tapir carcass. He shook his head. “Bloody hell,” he said. “That's the third one this week.”

“So, what's your prognosis, doctor?” asked Malcolm.

Robert glanced at the chaotician and then at the others. The children looked a bit green around the gills and Malcolm wasn't looking much better himself. Even Sattler looked a bit shaky and she was, as Americans were fond of putting it, one tough cookie.

Robert was no stranger to death and violence. He'd grown up with it. He'd worked with it. And over the past several months he'd been living with it. But the scale of it since the day of the Incident, as they'd come to call it, had been nothing short of stomach-churning.

“Jaguar?” asked Sattler.

Grant shook his head slowly. “If they kill prey the way a cougar does, I don't think they'd be this messy.”

“And you'd be right,” said Robert. “I've seen what every major and minor class of predator on earth does to its kill. That's before, during, and after.” He pointed to several marks both on the animal and around it.

“First, there are no drag marks, which means this tapir was attacked and died right here. Also notice the size of the bite marks. The jaws that made them were several times larger than any jaguar. The only other carnivore in Costa Rica with jaws that big is a caiman. But this is entirely the wrong sort of habitat for them.

“And these gashes here were made by single claws, not arranged in fours like a cat's. And...” He grabbed a small, white object and worked it free from a femur. He held it out toward Grant. “...I think you know what this is.”

Grant took the object, the blood coating it tacky and brown-ish. His eyes widened. “Raptor tooth,” he said softly.

“How do you know?” Tim asked.

“Because,” said Grant, “only a cat's incisors would be nearly this large. But those are round. This tooth is much flatter in profile. And notice the curvature? A cat's are straighter than this.”

“And a cat's are too firmly-rooted in the jaw to be that easily pulled out,” added Robert.

“Velociraptors are theropods,” Grant continued. “They can shed their teeth, rotating new ones in to fill in the gaps, much like a shark.”

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” said Malcolm.

Lex whimpered. Robert could relate. He knew at least as well as Grant what velociraptors were capable of doing. And the danger would be that much greater to anyone who still thought a jaguar to be the most dangerous predator in Central America.

“Can you tell which way it was going?” Grant asked.

“Forget that,” said Malcolm, “how'd they get here? I mean, Isla Nublar is at least a hundred miles offshore.”

“Purely academic right now,” said Robert. “The fact is that they're here and judging by the damage done to this tapir, I'd say there are at least four. If you want to let that keep you awake all night, by all means. But I think we can all agree that this...” He gestured at the dead tapir. “...changes the game considerably.”


	2. Chapter 2

Timothy Murphy woke to the sound of raindrops tapping on the foliage above his head. That was to be expected when one lived in a rainforest and he'd long ago stopped complaining about it. He moved, shifting the weight that leaned against him. He'd also stopped complaining about sharing a tree with his sister.

That didn't mean he'd stopped teasing her about the Brachiosaurus snot incident. How not? Sure, he and Lex had saved each other's lives multiple times since then. He'd even come to love and appreciate her in that particularly brotherly way. Still, he seldom missed an opportunity to rib her about, well, just about anything. And she always shot it right back at him. But the tone of it had changed from the near-vitriolic way it had been when they'd first arrived on Isla Nublar to a sort of friendly rivalry. It had become almost a sport and that actually made it more fun for the both of them.

Lex groaned and snorted into wakefulness in a way Tim might have found cute if she hadn't been his sister. Okay, maybe he did, but there was no way he'd ever admit it.

“Mornin', Veggiesaurus,” Tim said in his best attempt at a fake Southern drawl. Lex had reluctantly abandoned her vegetarianism shortly after the crash. But it was still a fun moniker.

Lex answered with a grunt. “Rain again?”

Tim shrugged. “Rainforest.” He leaned away from Lex, tipped his head back, and drank an anemic stream of water that trickled from a leaf tip. After a few minutes, he leaned back and then looked down.

The ground, some thirty feet below, looked just as it had when they'd climbed up just before dusk the evening before. Tim took comfort in that particular routine and not just because velociraptors couldn't jump or climb that high.

“You kids up?” Mr. Muldoon called from an adjacent tree.

“More or less,” said Dr. Sattler from their own tree.

“I meant them,” said Mr. Muldoon.

“Aye,” said Tim in a not-so-fake British accent.

Lex shot him a look.

“What?”

She just rolled her eyes. “He's rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So,” said Dr. Malcolm from his tree to Tim's left, “what are we going to do today?”

“The same thing we do every day,” said Tim.

“Try to take over the world!” he and Lex said together. Some rituals just had to be followed, no matter how silly.

In reality, they were all just trying to make it back to the United States alive, preferably in one piece. That was assuming the US still existed. From what Tim had gathered from all the grown-up talk, the local governments were rapidly disintegrating. Which meant the borders of Nicaragua, Honduras, Mexico, and so forth might become more like suggestions if they hadn't already, with new countries rising from the chaos. Dr. Malcolm had said more than once that the US was unlikely to be immune. If what had been happening around them was also happening elsewhere...

Tim tried not to think about it, especially the parts that involved Mom and Dad being in trouble. Instead, he focused on the morning routine, which began with stretching. That was never easy up in the fork of a tree with a sister in the way, but he managed. Then he moved out of Lex's way so she could stretch.

Then it was time for a loaf of what Dr. Grant called “Neolithic Pemmican,” which was basically American Indian pemmican, but with Central American fruits mixed with whatever meat happened to have been on-hand at the time. After that, he set to gnawing on a chunk of smoked mystery meat. He'd started to learn to tell the difference between different meats in appearance, texture, and taste. The one he happened to grab that morning was snake, probably python. Then fresh fruit, some type of which was always in season, harvested the previous afternoon.

Descending each morning was always risky. For that reason, one of the adults always went first. It was Dr. Malcolm's turn. He dropped his gear first, the metal in it making the usual noise. Then he waited while everyone listened. Which wasn't easy in a rainforest full of all sorts of animals beginning their own noisy morning rituals. Fortunately, those animals also had a habit of becoming suddenly silent when predators were about.

Satisfied, Dr. Malcolm slid down his tree, rifle and unstrung bow slung over a shoulder. The others followed, each dropping their gear to Dr. Malcolm's waiting hands and then climbing down. Tim and Lex were last, as usual.

Everyone strung his or her bow, put an arrow to the string, and fell in with Mr. Muldoon taking point with machete in hand. It was monotonous in some ways, but Tim was pretty sure it beat the heck out of math class.

* * *

WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

“Not bad!” said Grant. “Not bad at all.”

“You're a natural,” said Sattler.

“Yeh,” said Robert, “you'd be outshooting the Kalahari Bushmen in no time.”

Alexis grinned over her shoulder, lowering her longbow.

“Show-off,” Tim glowered. He raised his own bow, drew, and loosed. His arrow struck, but a bit off-center. “Dammit,” he growled.

“You watch your mouth, young man,” said Robert.

“But you talk like that,” Tim countered.

“I'm old enough to be your father. I've earned it. You haven't. Nor have you the discipline to swear properly.”

Alexis unsuccessfully stifled a snicker.

“Now,” said Robert, “do it again.” He drew his own, a forty-pound draw. Not as stiff as the ninety-pound yew bow he'd left back in England, but still about all he could handle.

The wounds on his left arm had healed nicely, but the muscle recovery would take a while and would probably never regain more then eighty percent of its original strength. And they still ached most of the time. Fortunately, much of the needed effort was supplied by the triceps of the upper arm.

Robert released, then nocked, drew, and released again. His arrows hit dead-center on the large, sawed-off branch they'd been using as a target.

Beyond that, the gentle cone of Zapatera rose above Lake Nicaragua. Several miles behind the small clearing beside which they'd made camp, the asphalt ribbon of the Pan-American Highway wound through farmland, unseen beyond the ridges of Reserva Natural Lagunetas de Mecatepe.

A metallic click sounded behind them as Malcolm replaced yet another piece of the rifle he'd been cleaning. Beside him sat a small backpack holding a modest amount of ammunition for the weapon. It was one of several they'd salvaged from a small party of people they'd encountered weeks before, down toward the southern end of the lake. Probably drug-runners, Malcolm had guessed.

Many of the dead they'd seen before that had been obvious victims of vehicular accidents that had occurred moments after their cars had died. Others had clear gun-shot wounds, or bone fractures from blunt-force trauma, all probably a result of the chaos over the days and weeks following the Incident. Some had born no visible wounds and had plausibly died of hunger or disease. In many cases, though, the cause of death had simply been impossible to determine thanks to hungry scavengers.

There'd been a couple that, judging by the marks on the bones, had probably been attacked by jaguars and then subsequently picked clean by various scavengers. The ones that had left their guns by their bodies had born the signs of very recent attack by velociraptors.

Their wounds been consistent with that. The expressions of terror still visible on their faces were unforgettable. And then there was a single velociraptor carcass, its body riddled with bullet holes. That scene had been enough to make Malcolm lose his mercifully spare lunch.

But they'd acquired some rather useful tools, including the rifles, some ammunition for them, and a first-aid kit from a ripped-up backpack.

They practiced their targeting skills with the bows and arrows they'd made from local materials. It wasn't at all like shooting a gun, but the fine art of aiming was pretty much the same. Archery was far quieter and arrows far easier to replace than bullets.

The eerie screams that had floated across the waters of Lake Arenal still haunted Grant's dreams, or so he'd said, and Robert didn't doubt that for a moment. Those screams had occasionally been followed shortly by gunfire and then always by a tense silence. But it had been their first sighting of human waste in the water that had driven them northward a little sooner than they'd planned.

They'd been turned back at the Nicaraguan border, which they'd been told was “cerrado hasta nuevo aviso,” closed until further notice.

“My muscular buttocks,” Robert had muttered after they'd retreated out of hearing.

So they'd backtracked to the coast and had sneaked across in the middle of the night along a beach at low tide, then wound their way back northward along a minor, apparently unnamed, road that had dumped them out on the Pan-American Highway at Sapoa on the western shore of Lake Nicaragua.

Aside from dead vehicles, not much had appeared out of the ordinary. Except for the rumors, which somehow always seemed to travel faster than anything.

Rivas, the next largest town to the north, was in slightly worse condition. It seemed that the larger the town, the more reliant it had been on modern technology and thus the more vulnerable it had been and the more severely conditions there had deteriorated.

“The more you overwork the plumbing,” Malcolm had said, “the easier it is to stop up the drain.”

For the moment, they seemed to have avoided most of the refugees fleeing Managua and the signs of clashes between desperate people fighting over things like food and drinking water. How much worse it might be elsewhere was very much open to debate and debate it they did.

But the bottom line was still that it didn't look likely that it was going to “blow over” any time soon. And as long as things remained in a state of chaos, and as long as the six of them were in the middle of it, the extent of the problem was largely irrelevant. They still had to deal with it every morning one way or another.

“Now,” said Robert over the last bites of that evening's dinner, “what's the first rule of gun safety?”

“Always assume your weapon is loaded,” said Tim.

“Good. What's the second rule?”

“Always assume your weapon is loaded,” said Alexis.

Robert nodded. “And the third rule?”

“Always assume your weapon is loaded,” said the Murphy children together.

Robert smiled. “The fourth?”

“Always point your weapon in a safe direction,” said Tim.

“And the fifth?”

“You're legally and morally responsible for every bullet that leaves your weapon,” said Alexis.

“Excellent,” said Robert. “Now, let's all clean up and get up to bed.” He gestured toward the tall trees behind them.

“Before dark this time,” Grant added as he hauled on a line looped over a branch, a load of equipment rising up into the canopy.

* * *

Lex Murphy's high-pitched scream pierced through pretty much everything. Birds rose abruptly from the trees, their flapping heard and felt more than seen.

Alan Grant launched himself through the foliage at the clearing's edge, rifle at the ready.

The long, green-grey body of a female velociraptor and two red-striped males paused to look quickly toward him, then in a second direction.

Alan drew on the female and squeezed the trigger three times. POP-POP-POP!

The animal lurched slightly, then screeched in pain and alarm. Her head swiveled in his direction.

Another series of pops reported from across the clearing to the right and one of the males screamed.

Alexis raised a .357 Magnum in front of her, holding it with both hands, and squeezed off several rounds at the third male.

Alan and Robert each fired again at their targets. The raptors broke, each intent on laying into their assailants. Alan heard, more than saw, Lex empty her clip into the male she'd shot, its screams merging painfully with her own.

Alan squeezed off round after round until the female finally collapsed several paces in front of him. He fired an “insurance” shot into its eye socket before looking up.

Lex was no longer standing. “Lex!” He broke into a sprint, covering the fifty of so yards of ground in seconds.

The girl lay on the ground beneath the male raptor, her breathing shallow.

“Lex!”

“Get...it... _off_!” she gasped.

Alan turned his head. “Robert!” he yelled.

The Brit pounded through the grass. He grabbed one of the animal's arms while Alan grabbed a leg. They levered it up.

“I'll hold it,” said Alan. “You pull her out.”

The sudden increase in weight nearly buckled his knees.

“Hurry up!” he grunted through clenched teeth.

“Okay,” said Robert, “I got her.”

Alan spun out of the way, the raptor's body thudding onto the ground. He bent over Lex. “Are you okay?” he panted.

She coughed, dragged breath into her lungs, then glared at him. “Next time,” she said breathlessly, “you be the decoy.”

* * *

Ellie Sattler groaned. “How many of those are there?”

“Many,” said Tim. “Nay, a great many.”

Lex made a slight hrmphing sound.

“It's a bloody buffet,” said Robert.

They stood on a low rise, overlooking a section of farm that had been converted into yet another refugee camp. Which meant a lot of bedrolls and tattered tarps.

A large, bird-shaped shadow flitted across the field, momentarily blocking out the sun.

“Nazgul!” Tim yelled, pointing toward the sky.

“You're such a nerd,” Alexis responded, following her brother's gaze.

“Oh, yeah, Miss 'This is UNIX, I Know This?'”

“Yeah.”

“And there are, in fact, nine of them,” said Tim.

“Coincidence,” said Lex.

“But it _is_ the right number for the Nazgul.”

“Kids,” said Ellie evenly, “that's enough.”

The boy was right. Nine large pterosaurs—possibly Quetzalcoatlus northropii—soared high above them. Even at that distance, they impressed Alan. Maybe the theories about dragons being leftover dinosaurs were right. From what he'd observed of actual, living dinosaurs, they sure fit with the legends.

“Well,” said Ian, his gaze trained on the pterodactyls, “it's not hard to figure out how _they_ got off the island.”

As they watched, one of the pterosaurs banked out of formation and plucked a condor out of the air. A second followed it and snapped up another condor. The flock of carrion birds broke and fled. The pterosaurs took up positions in the scavengers' erstwhile airspace. Even at that distance, the people in the camp were visible as metaphorical ants scurrying fearfully about.

After several revolutions, a pterosaur folded its wings and dropped. It came out of its dive, pulled up sharply, skimmed the ground, plucked a person off their feet, then climbed back upward, its wings beating slowly. A second pterosaur followed the first. Then a third...and a fourth...and so on until each of the nine flew off shoreward with a flailing, presumably screaming, person in its talons.

“Oh...my...God,” said Ellie.

“You were right,” said Ian, “it's a buffet.”

“Splendid,” said Robert sarcastically.

“First we stayed out in the open to avoid the raptors,” said Lex, “now we have to keep to the trees to avoid the...pterodactyls? How are we supposed to do that?”

“We're not,” said Tim smugly.

“Tim,” said Alan, “that's not true. We...” He realized he didn't have much of an answer. At least, not one that would make the kids feel any better. “Robert?”

“Fortunately,” said Robert, “we can see them coming. Raptors, not so much. So long as the sun's at our backs and one of us keeps his or her eyes on the sky, we should be fine with the status quo.”

“Not like we have much of a choice,” said Ian.

Robert exhaled. “Guess we'd best be soldiering on, then, eh?”

* * *

Robert Muldoon jerked out of sound sleep. A high-pitched scream filled the air, underlain with irritable snarling. It took him a moment to regain his bearings.

He quickly untied the line securing him to his tree, then strung his bow and put an obsidian-pointed arrow to the string.

“Well, don't just sit there, girl,” he yelled, “shoot the damn things!”

He let the string roll off his fingertips. The wet smack of sharp stone sinking into velociraptor flesh followed an instant later. The animal screeched in pain and rage, turning to snap at the shaft embedded in its shoulder.

Shooting from the crook of a tree wasn't easy. Lining up a good shot while keeping his bow's limbs clear of branches and low-hanging foliage, to say nothing of staying in the tree himself, was tricky.

“Hey, you! Ugly!” Malcolm taunted from another tree.

A raptor leaped up at him. He met it with an obsidian-headed bamboo spear. He shoved the weapon into the raptor's mouth. The animal fell back to the ground, shaking its head violently and making slobbery noises.

“Yeah,” said Malcolm, “that's what's for breakfast!”

More arrows and spears showered down onto the three raptors over the next several minutes. Two of them fled with arrow shafts still leaving bloody streaks down their flanks, the third too injured to walk.

Robert drew his machete and shimmied down the tree.

“Robert!” Sattler called. “What are you...?”

The raptor attempted a lunge. Robert slid sideways and severed a forearm, then arced another strike into the animal's snout. An underhanded swing met the dinosaur's neck. He stepped back and waited for the fountain of blood to slow.

The seconds of silence between the raptor's body hitting the ground and the rise of the normal forest sounds always seemed longer than they actually were. And even through the fear he always felt while facing dangerous predators, there still persisted a certain exhilaration. Perhaps that was why he did what he did and perhaps that was what had originally drawn him to his way of life.

He looked up. “If we're going to keep up with the dragon-slaying,” he said, “we really ought to have proper blades, don't you think?”

That brought a chorus of groans and chuckles. He'd meant the remark as a sort of light-hearted tension-breaker. Yet he was still dead serious about it. The machete was an excellent chopping tool, a job it did exceedingly well. But it was still tip-heavy and not at all suited for quick blade-work. No, they had to assume the dinosaur situation would be with them for a while and that the bullets were going to run out. Which meant forging proper swords and training with them. Robert smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Alan Grant stood in the middle of a small coastal marsh. He'd long ago stopped noticing his wet feet. In fact, he wasn't really sure they'd dried out much since Isla Nublar. Even Ellie had mentioned more than once that his feet seemed perpetually pruny. He'd almost stopped noticing the migrating kinks and knots in his muscles from spending each night in a different tree.

At the moment, he didn't particularly care. Though he was beginning to see what Lex had meant about disliking decoy detail. It was nerve-wracking, and he'd developed a distinct love-hate relationship with long periods of boredom punctuated by short periods of terror. Never mind that he could see anything coming far more than could his friends hiding in the nearby vegetation. In any other situation, it would have been a great way to watch coastal wildlife and Nicaragua's Reserva Natural Padre Ramos was no exception.

Alan shifted his rifle and mentally checked his ammunition. There wasn't a lot of it left. They'd been rationing each round at least as tightly as they had each dose of antibiotics and it was up for debate which was harder to find. Worse, the velociraptors seemed to be multiplying at an alarming rate.

Alan watched the waist-high grasses around him. He was still surprised at how well the six-foot-long repto-avians could hide. Yet even they displaced a lot of vegetation when they moved.

Then he saw it, a greenish head protruding above the reeds a hundred yards away. It quickly ducked down again. That meant there should be at least two others and usually at roughly ninety degree flanking positions. He slowly turned his own head. Sure enough, the signs were exactly where he'd expected them to be. Only there were five of them. That wasn't good.

He flicked the safety off and drew a bead on one of the raptors. He let them slowly slink toward him. Every shot had to count. No exceptions. Aim small, miss small. Eighty yards...seventy...sixty...fifty. He let out his best imitation of the Tarzan yodel.

Shots rang out from all around him. The raptors checked their advance, each screaming in pain and anger as bullets tore at their flesh. Alan fired at the nearest as-yet uninjured one, drawing its attention.

A second continued to close on him. The ground began to shake slightly. Alan ignored it. Earthquakes were the least of his worries.

The ground shook again and a branch snapped behind him. A large one, from the sound of it. Just when he thought his heart couldn't pound any harder, it did.

He began to turn his head. An arrow whipped past him and sank into the flank of a raptor barely a dozen yards away. The dinosaur turned and bit savagely at the shaft, breaking it in two. Another arrow glanced across the top of the animal's head. Then another smacked into its neck, bright red blood spurting out of the wound. A fourth to its eye socket had it down and twitching, the cloth-yard shafts hoisting colorful toucan and parrot fletchings into the air.

The remaining raptors turned and fled, one limping noticeably.

Alan turned and felt his jaw drop.

“Lex!”

The girl cocked her head. “It's Alexis,” she corrected. She'd been rather particular about that over the last month. The consensus was that it was a teenager thing. But unlike any other time, Alan found himself looking up at her.

“Beautiful, isn't she?” Alexis said, patting the shoulder of her mount. The animal the girl rode was, most definitely, not a horse. A juvenile a bit larger than a mule, its duck-like snout, rough, blue-grey skin, and the beginning of the distinctive tubular crest mounted to the rear of its head were unmistakable.

“How...how...where...” Alan stammered.

Alexis laughed. “I think I'll name her Sundancer.”

“Whoa!” said Sven Richards from a nearby tree.

“Madre de Dios!” exclaimed Maria Sanchez.

Over the last several weeks, they'd begun accumulating followers. Their reasons for joining were as diverse as their nationalities. They ranged from various unfortunate and life-threatening situations to having been on vacation and stranded when the Incident had occurred. All wanted out of Central America and decided their chances with the growing Dragon-slayer Tribe were better than they'd been on their own.

“Your brother's going to be jealous,” said Alan.

“I know!” Alexis squealed.

“Hell,” Alan added, “I'm jealous.”

Sundancer snorted, then pulled up a mouthful of grass and began to chew.

Ellie trotted up, her feet making splurching sounds in the muck. “Are there any more?” she asked.

Alexis shook her head. “No, just this one.”

Ellie shook her head slowly. “How'd she avoid being found and...um...eaten?”

That was a good question. There were the velociraptors, of course. They also weren't all that far from Managua to the south or Tegucigalpa to the north. Apparently the intervening countryside had absorbed, one way or another, most of the refugees streaming out of those cities. Rumors from as far away as San Salvador told not only of the same state of general chaos, but also of “dragones,” which were apparently what the locals had been calling the dinosaurs that had been showing up along the Pacific coast.

That was yet another question that might never be answered. How had all the dinosaurs been reaching the mainland? As far as anyone knew, there were only two sites: Isla Nublar; and Isla Sorna. And both were at least a hundred miles off the coast. Ian had spent a substantial amount of breath talking about the probability of one or more juveniles hitching rides on pieces of driftwood driven eastward by recent violent storms. While that was statistically unlikely, and wildly so, he'd reasoned that evolution was as well and that had happened, so why not?

But Alan was convinced that the more likely explanation was that a third site existed. Building such a facility was, in his view, even crazier than Jurassic Park, but that scenario passed Occam's Razor much better than Ian's driftwood theory.

Alexis leaned down and looked at Sundancer. “No one's going to eat you,” she said in a way that reminded Alan of the way one might have talked to a horse.

“How'd she let you ride her?” Ellie asked.

Alexis shrugged. “No idea. I just walked up to her nice and easy and started patting her and she, like, made this purring sort of sound. And then I just got this idea that she might be a dino-horse or something. So I climbed up and...”

“In the middle of a raptor operation?” said Alan.

“I got here in time, didn't I? Anyway, she let me get on her and...well, she responded when I shifted my weight...sort of. And then she took off this way when you yodeled. So...dunno.” She shrugged.

“There is just so much we don't know about these animals,” said Ellie pensively.

Alexis beamed. “And isn't it fun?” she gushed.

Alan looked at the dead velociraptors. No, none of it was really what he would have called fun. And where were they going to keep a Parasaurolophus up in the crater of Cosiguina Volcano anyway? To say nothing of when they'd be on the move again. The logistics were likely to be a severe headache. On the bright side, at least they had fresh food for a while.

* * *

“Bollocks,” said Robert. “Where'd that girl and her bloody dinosaur get off to now?”

A thick morning mist hung above the ground, the occasional tree stump protruding above it.

“It's still not fair,” said Tim for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Look,” said Alan, “if we find another dinosaur big enough for you to ride, we'll catch it and you can train it. Okay?”

“Great,” said Ian, “we're turning into the Flintstones.”

A roar pierced the calm, a sound not one of them had ever wanted to hear ever again. The ursine-elephantine-feline-porcine call had been irrevocably seared into their collective memories ever since Isla Nublar. Everyone looked up.

“Everyone freeze!” Alan barked.

“What the hell is that?” asked Tina Ellis.

“You don't want to know,” said Ellie.

“But you're about to find out,” said Ian.

“It's fear,” said Tim. “Terror incarnate. Nightmare made flesh. The one thing that makes velociraptors look like...”

“That's enough, Tim,” said Alan through clenched teeth.

A shrill scream floated across the clear-cut. Everyone tensed. Breaking branches cracked and Alan could see some of the trees swaying.

Suddenly, Sundancer burst from the foliage a half mile off, Alexis riding bareback. Something a little smaller than Alexis draped over the animal's back just behind her. The girl twisted around and loosed an arrow at something. Alan didn't have to wait long to see what that something was. And it was the very last thing he'd ever wanted to see in this life or the next.

The unmistakable form of terror-made-flesh erupted from the foliage, leaves and branches flying outward, the ear-shattering, heart-stopping roar that still haunted Alan's dreams squeezed out between rows of six-inch teeth. And all six tons of it barreled straight toward them.

“Oh, _SHIT_!” Ian yelled. 

Robert proceeded to let loose with a string of profanity, half of it obscurely British, as all hands dove for the nearest weapon.

Two brightly-fletched cloth-yard shafts already stood lodged in the tip of the tyrannosaur's snout and it was obvious what had happened. Two more flew outward and down the animal's throat.

“Spread out!” Robert yelled. “Escallop Formation!”

The Escallop Formation was a near-semicircle intended to confuse approaching enemies, forcing them into a state of indecision, and catch them in a cross-fire. It wasn't historically innovative, but among the many things that had been re-invented in the post-Incident chaos.

“Don't hit the girl!” Alan yelled as he took up position just off-center and aimed his AK-47 at the carnivore's center of mass, the weapon set on semi-automatic. The spray-and-pray of full-auto would have put more holes into the animal, but it was far more important to place each bullet for maximum effect. Not to mention the persistent scarcity of replacement ammunition.

“Yeah,” said Ellie, “because I'm going to spank her teenage ass so hard, she'll...”

“Later!” Alan barked.

“Wait for it!” Robert called. “Wait for it...”

Alexis and Sundancer hurtled across the field, their substantially lighter weight giving them a modest advantage over the tyrannosaur's much longer stride. Together, they were the fastest-moving object within who knew how many hundred yards. Alexis continued to lob arrows at the tyrannosaur, all of them striking it, all but guaranteeing a monopoly on its attention.

The ground shook violently with each footfall, the air vibrating with each roar, and under it the rapid drumming of Sundancer's feet.

Alexis shot past Alan.

“ _NOW_!” Robert yelled.

Bullets, arrows, and atlatl darts erupted from over a dozen weapons, pummeling the tyrannosaur with steel and napped obsidian. Alan was glad he and Ellie had spent so much time reviewing and re-reviewing theropod anatomy over the recent months.

The large theropod skidded to a halt, its feet plowing up muck and grass, coming to a stop barely thirty yards from where Alan stood. It shook its head violently. Its motions were surprisingly fast given the mass of the head alone. For several moments, it seemed almost canine. Then it turned toward Alan and the others and bellowed. He could almost feel the wind as the dinosaur emptied its lungs. It took a step toward them. Then another. Its attention continued to shift from person to person, unable to focus on any given threat.

Alan aimed at its head and squeezed off a few more rounds. That skull was thick, he knew. But it was also full of weight-reducing cavities. If he could manage to put at least one bullet through to the brain-pan... His weapon clicked.

He pulled the clip from his weapon, shoved it into a cargo pocket, and slammed the spare clip—the only spare—home, put a round into the chamber, and resumed firing.

The tyrannosaur had closed the remaining distance in just a few halting steps. He'd seen the way one could move and he knew it could have been on them even sooner if not for the continual barrage of projectiles. Another arrow struck the animal in its right eye. It roared in pain.

Alan looked in time to see Alexis and Sundancer turn as one, veering around behind the Escallop. She just wouldn't leave well enough alone. But she'd shed whatever it was she'd been carrying moments before. The pair spun around again and Alexis put a broad-head to the string and sank it between ribs. Then another and another.

She rode around behind the rex, partially drawing its attention rearward. More arrows lodged in sensitive ventral areas between its massive legs.

“Bring it down!” Robert yelled.

Robert put two shotgun shells into the tyrannosaur's upper chest. A pair of bamboo javelins joined it. Blood gushed from the resulting hole. The animal wavered.

Alan put a bullet through the roof of its mouth. Then someone else put a couple more through its neck, bright red blood spurting out from the holes. Several triple-bladed hunting tips, broad obsidian heads, and both steel and stone spearheads cut into arteries, turning them into fountains of bright red.

“How much blood does that thing have!?” someone yelled.

“Too much!” Alan replied, then squeezed two more bullets into its left eye. Vitreous humor ran down its face.

The animal blinded, the assault intensified. Blades cut at the animal's rear tendons. Arrows sought and found femoral arteries. More arrows and spears pierced lungs and sliced open a carotid artery and a jugular vein. Blood flowed like rivers, wetting earth and people alike.

Moments later, the dinosaur toppled forward. Alan half heard, half felt the crunch of breaking vertebrae as its head hit the ground.

The ensuing silence was almost as deafening as the fight had been, the loudest sound the blood pounding in his ears.

* * *

“Young lady,” said Ellie sternly, “get your ass back in there!”

Alexis stood there glowering and panting, covered head to toe in tyrannosaur blood and peritoneal fluids.

Ellie pointed past the girl at the carcass behind her. “You're not finished.”

“Do you have any idea how much guts there are inside that thing?” Alexis said.

“Yes,” said Alan from behind Ellie, “we know exactly how much viscera is in a six-ton Tyrannosaurus rex.”

“And that,” said Ellie, “is why it's your penance.”

“Fine,” the girl growled. She shoved her denim cutoffs and threadbare cotton underwear down her legs and stepped out of them, then peeled off her beat-up T-shirt, the garment making a strange splurchy sound, then dropped it onto the ground with an audible splut. She stood there for a moment, clad only in tyrannosaur blood and the velociraptor claw pendant from her first kill.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

“I can't move in those things,” Lex said, nudging her discarded clothing. “Not with them soaked in blood...and stuff. They're a total loss anyway.” She placed her hands on her hips. “And besides, it's not like it's that much grosser than sweating in the same shirt all day, every day, for the last six months.”

Ellie raised a hand to her mouth, covering a fugitive smile trying to spread across it. She didn't know why it was as funny as it was. Maybe it was because Alexis had somehow managed to look irresistibly and inexplicably adorable in that moment.

Alexis spun on her heels and stalked the few steps back toward the large hole they'd cut between the animal's shoulder blades and where its rib cage rested against the ground.

“Did she...” Tim began. “...gah!”

Lex looked over her shoulder and glared at her brother. Then a wicked grin spread across her face, the contrast of white teeth with dark red blood making for a particularly eerie effect. She turned and took a step toward Tim.

“Oh, no,” said Tim and backed up a step.

Lex sprinted forward. Tim turned to run, but wasn't fast enough. Lex covered the distance between them in less than a half-dozen strides and wrapped her bloody arms around her brother's bare upper body. Tim protested loudly.

Alan and Ellie both burst into laughter. Even Ian and Robert seemed amused.

“Maybe we should start calling them Pebbles and Bam-Bam,” said Ian.

When Alexis had finished smearing Tim with blood to her satisfaction, she trudged back to the tyrannosaur. “This is still gross,” she said as she pulled her knife from a section of hide and crawled back inside.

“Are you sure that's really necessary?” Robert asked.

“She did endanger everybody's lives,” said Ellie. “I'm not really sure there's an appropriate penance for that. Frankly, though, no. I'm not at all sure it isn't overkill. Personally, though, I think most of her complaints are for effect more than anything.”

“If I didn't know better,” said Alan, “I'd say she's almost enjoying it.” He shuddered so violently, Ellie thought he might dislodge some of the sweat clinging to his bare chest.

“Eew,” said Tim. He wiped ineffectively at the blood his sister had transferred to his arms and torso.

“Well,” said Ian pensively, “she certainly wasn't at first.”

Ellie chuckled. If anything, that was an understatement. Alexis had begged, pleaded, half-screamed and generally thrown a fit that had culminated in an upwelling of tears that Ellie was quite sure had been genuine.

That had been more than two hours before and in that time, Alexis had removed the heart, both lungs, trachea, and esophagus to within a foot or so of the stomach. No one really wanted to know what it had been eating, so they'd decided to sever both ends of it, then sink a meat hook into the upper end and have someone extract it from outside, then bury it in the woods.

“You know,” said Robert quietly, “I once had to eviscerate an elephant as a punishment. Damn.” He shook his head slowly.

“So,” said Alan, changing the subject, “how many bowstrings do you think we can make from the sinew off this thing?”

Robert thought for a moment. “Don't know. Dozens. Scores. Maybe a hundred? A damn lot, though.”

“Think we'll get all the meat processed before it spoils?” Alan asked.

“Forget the meat,” said Ian, wiping a finger through the sweat, blood, and lymph caked to his own body, “I'm more concerned about us spoiling.”

They all glanced over at the racks of thinly-sliced tyrannosaur meat hanging over smoky fires. It reminded Alan of photos he'd seen of salmon-smoking racks taken in the Pacific Northwest. Except that the fires burned beneath tarps that shielded them from the constant threat of rain.

There were also barrels of boiled-down salt water filled with curing meat. And a tyrannosaur had a phenomenal amount of meat! Other barrels were filled with gently-boiling water and pieces of hide destined for shoes and leather armor among other things. Others held additional parts being boiled down for glue to be used in fiber armor or fat skimmed off to make tallow candles or combined with sifted wood ash to make soap.

“Maybe,” said Robert. He looked over at another tarp they'd erected not far away. “How's she doing?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected,” said Ellie. “In the short term, the usual.” That had become short-hand for watching for infections in wounds and the usual tropical diseases otherwise. “In the long-term?” She exhaled.

“If what Alexis says is accurate,” Ellie continued, “I don't know if she'll fully recover. Hell, I don't think I'd ever get over waiting to be fed to a nest of Tee-rex hatchlings.” She shuddered. “Her legs should mend if we can keep her from moving them. She still hasn't said a word. Probably traumatized, poor thing. At least she's drinking. Otherwise, it's still too soon to say much.”

Robert grunted in assent. He looked back at the T-rex carcass, then rubbed his chin. “Every part of the buffalo, you say?”

Alan nodded.

Robert chuckled and shook his head. “Well,” he said, “no rest for the wicked, eh?” He walked over to the dinosaur and resumed his own cutting operation, his hatchet flinging more blood onto his already blood-splattered face and torso.

Alan and Ellie looked at each other and chuckled. Ellie splatted a bloody palm print onto Alan's bare, muscular abs.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“Any time,” she teased.

“Well,” said Ian, “like the man said...” He sunk a meat hook into the heart and lifted. “Damn,” he grunted. “Remind me not to arm-wrestle with that girl.” He hauled the heart off toward one of the carving stations while Alan and Ellie went back to work themselves.


	4. Chapter 4

Alexis Murphy adjusted her aim incrementally, feeling the muscles in her arms and upper back draw taught along with the limbs of her bow. She felt the string roll off her fingertips as she had countless times before.

She could almost watch her arrow flex as its nock pulled free from the string and cleared her stave. It closed forty yards in slow-motion. She heard the wet smack of obsidian slicing into flesh, her target screaming a split-second later.

The man she'd just shot lurched backward, her arrow lodged just below his ribs. He spun around and stared. She planted another arrow into his chest, just to the left of his sternum. Even at that distance, she could see his face go slack and blood dribble out of his mouth, and hear the heavy thump as his body hit the ground.

A dozen more bows launched more arrows. It was all over in less than ten seconds.

Alexis dropped her bow, took two steps to the right, and vomited into the bushes.

The rest of the day seemed like a mindless blur that culminated in the usual campfires.

“Hey,” said Ellie. She sat down on a log next to Alexis. She held out a mug of steaming liquid. “You okay?”

At first, Alexis just stared into the dying flames and glowing embers. “I killed a man,” she said finally. She took the mug and sipped at it mechanically, initially wincing at the slightly bitter taste.

Ellie nodded. “Yeah. I know. So did I.”

“But you're a grown-up,” Alexis said flatly. “You're supposed to be the ones to do stuff like that. I'm still a kid...more or less. I'm...not supposed to kill people.”

“You know what that man was trying to do,” said Ellie gently. “You did what was necessary to save an innocent girl.”

“I know. So why do I feel like sh...crap? I mean, if Evolution is true, and it's survival of the fittest and all that, then shouldn't I be basking in my being-the-fittest glory or something right about now? Shouldn't I be...beating my chest and roaring in triumph like...like an Amazon or a valkyrie?”

Ellie sighed. Alexis recognized it as something Ellie did when she had no idea what to say.

“You don't know either, do you?” Alexis asked.

“Not so much, no,” said Ellie.

Alexis felt Ellie's hand stroking her back. It was the same way Mom had done it, when Alexis had been up all night with the flu, or when things had been blowing up between her and Dad right before the divorce. It had been Mom's attempt to make Alexis feel better when there wasn't much else to be done.

The thing was, it had always worked. It had never really cured the upset stomach or the bee sting or the stubbed toe. But it had always taken her mind off of the pain and, most importantly, had made her feel loved and valued. Ellie's back-rub had the same effect. Maybe it was instinctual. Whatever it was, all Alexis knew was that someone loved her and that made her feel better. Not a lot better, but a little was better than nothing.

Alexis exhaled heavily, some of her burden seeming to go out with her breath. “How come everyone else is dealing with it better than I am?”

There was silence. “Maybe,” said Ellie, “you should ask Robert.”

Alexis looked sharply at Ellie. “Why him?”

“Because he...he's done it before. Military man before working for your grandpa.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the mug in her hands. “What is this, anyway?”

“Herbal tea. I thought you might need something to help you sleep tonight.”

“Duh.” Then, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just...don't take it out on the rest of us, okay?”

Alexis frowned.

“No, really,” Ellie said gently. “People have a habit of doing that sort of thing. And we're all in the same boat. It's just...we adults don't show it very well. That's probably even worse, though.”

“How come?”

“Because we're more likely to bottle it up, only to explode at the worst possible time and all over someone who has nothing to do with any of it.”

“Oh. So being a kid and just going nutsoid from square one is better?”

“Basically. As long as you don't stay that way.” Ellie nudged Alexis lightly. “Because then we'd have to tie you up and put you in a wagon with pink, padded walls.”

“Ha, ha,” said Alexis dryly. “Tim's lucky.”

“He doesn't think so.”

“He missed. He's pouting about it, but he doesn't know what it's like to...to deal with this.”

“You're right. He doesn't. Maybe he should talk to Robert, too.”

Alexis nodded and made an affirmative grunt.

“Come on,” said Ellie. “Finish that off and we'd best be getting up to bed.”

“Yeah,” said Alexis flatly. “Sure.” She tipped her head back and drained the liquid, then handed the mug back to Ellie.

The next day, Alexis found herself riding abreast of Mr. Muldoon. He'd been the first one to get the hang of riding a Gallimimus. He'd said it was pretty much just like an ostrich. Prehistoric ostrich or not, it was funny-looking.

“Mister Muldoon?” she said.

“Aye?” he answered.

Alexis was having a hard time looking at the Brit. The gait of his mount was so much more abrupt. Bouncy, actually, and quite unlike Sundancer's slow, quadrupedal walking lope. So she gazed off in front of her at nothing in particular.

“You were in the army, right?”

“That's right.”

She paused. “Kill anyone?”

“Now and then. All in service to Queen and Country.”

“How do you deal with it? Killing people, I mean. Doesn't seem to bother you.”

At first, Mr. Muldoon didn't say anything. Then, “Hmm. Good question. And the answer...you probably won't like it.”

“So? Will it help?”

“That depends on you.”

“Okay. I'll bite.”

Mr. Muldoon grinned. “The answer is that it depends on you.”

Alexis scowled. “Not helpful.”

Mr. Muldoon tapped the hilt of his sword. “Do you remember what I taught you about this?”

Alexis nodded. “The sword, like the gun, is made for one purpose and one purpose only. That purpose being to kill,” she recited.

A nod. “What else?”

“Killing is the most serious thing I can ever do. Each time I take a life, a small piece of my own is taken along with it.” She hadn't understood that before. But now? Now she understood. At least, a lot more than she had. She hoped and prayed to...to whomever would listen...that she'd never have to do it ever again.

Another nod. “Different people deal with death in different ways. Some of it constructive, some of it not. I've seen men crawl into the bottle over it and not come back out. I've seen a few of 'em go on as if nothing happened, then have mental breakdowns that make a toddler's tantrums look sane. Others, mainly those who have the constitution for it, they seem to just roll with it, take in stride, even.

“The men...and women...who've made it through all that in more or less one piece, you know what most of 'em did?”

Alexis shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

“They talked to each other about it. A lot. Until it hurt. Especially the really bad stuff. More so when it's the last thing you want to do. 'Cause that's the best way to keep you from blowin' up later. And the other thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Religion.”

“Huh? How's that help?”

“Haven't you heard there are no atheists in the foxhole?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“We're basically at war. That's when man is at his worst. And not just men killin' other men, either.”

“Like...like what the man I shot was trying to do to that girl?”

“Exactly. And when there's that much violence and desolation about, that much chaos can drive a person mad. Bug-shaggin' mad, mind you. And no matter what people say about religion being the opium of the masses and such, it's always been a source of stability. God may or may not be real. And we could talk around that all year.

“Christians say there's a God-shaped hole in each of us. They may even be right. The point is that when everything you know and trust crumbles down around your ears and falls out from under your feet, that's when you most need something stable, something that won't crumble no matter what.

“Everyone has faith in something. Trouble is, much of the time it's not something that deserves having faith in it and we don't always realize it until it's taken from us. Lots of people will tell you that religion's a crutch and that science has the answers and all that. Evolution may be true or it may not. The point is that if you believe in something bigger than yourself, bigger than what it is you're fighting inside or outside, that'll hold up when your own strength fails. Which I've seen happen more times than I care to count.

“Look around you, girl. These people who've joined up with us? The one you snatched from the tyrannosaur. The one you spared from bein' raped. An' so on. Look at their faces. They're the reason we have to do the things we otherwise wish we'd never done. Bloody complicated subject, innit?”

Alexis nodded.

“And I think your godmum would agree.”

“Did she put you up to this?”

“She said you might have some questions, might need help dealing with all this. And another thing...don't ever let anyone, especially yourself, convince you that you don't need help. Not one of us is going to judge you for it an' that's because we all need help. We're all here for you. Got that?”

Alexis nodded. “Thanks, Mister Muldoon. That...well, I think that actually did help.”

Mr. Muldoon nodded. “Just remember it all, eh?”

Alexis smiled. She looked around at the dozen or so people who had joined the Tribe, people she and hers had liberated the day before, and felt what she thought was that last ember of hope brighten up just a little bit.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hurry up, slow-pokes!” Alexis called as she hurtled past Alan, Sundancer's feet thumping on the gravel.

Alan groaned and shook his head. That girl really was a handful. So was her brother, now that he was entering his own teenage years. It wouldn't be long before Tim became just as hot-headed as Alexis' boyfriend. At least his girlfriend seemed able to keep him in line.

Overall, though, they were all good kids. It was a pity they'd all had to endure so many hardships and horrors since the Incident. But the world was a different place than it had been before that. For good or ill was still open for debate.

The young man in question raced past Alan astride a dappled pinto gelding, hooves throwing gravel as it galloped.

“Watch it, junior!” Alan barked.

“Sorry!” Sven Richards called over his shoulder. He almost sounded like he meant it. And he probably did in his own way. For all that Sven was nearly twenty, he still had a few lingering teenager-ish habits.

His was the fastest horse they had, but still had no hope of catching up to an adolescent Parasaurolophus walkeri, especially over long distances. While those things could eat a lot, they had stamina in spades.

Which was why they'd had to stick so close to the Rio Grande. Only along the river was there enough forage and water for Sundancer, the horses, the llamas, the burros, two other juvenile parasaurs, several Gallimumus, two triceratops, and several protocertops.

Alan looked behind him at the train of people who'd fallen in with them over the last...holy crap, had it really taken them three years to travel two thousand miles? Damn. That shouldn't have surprised him.

There'd been their painfully slow start, emphasis on painfully. They'd been lucky to make five miles a day for a while. No one had known the geography and they'd had to wing it most of the time, which had taken them in circles or backtracking or both more often than Alan cared to contemplate. Even when they had known where they were, where they were going, and which direction to travel to get there, their route hadn't often been direct, nor had it been obstacle-free. And, of course, everyone's injuries had slowed them down even more.

Food, safe drinking water, and medicine had always been in short supply. That had meant hunting, boiling their water, getting the kids to eat organ meat for their vitamins, which for Alexis had been no mean task in the beginning. Fortunately, her hunger had quickly won out over her vegetarianism.

Then there had been the ever-growing number of things they'd had to avoid: previously high population centers and the diseases that had bred in them following the Incident; banditry, some of it no doubt from members of various drug cartels; and a number of highly dangerous dinosaurs that had suddenly had plenty of “long pork.”

The velociraptors that had somehow managed to breed like rabbits and supply a goodly amount of food for the tribe. The tyrannosaur that had furnished enough meat to feed them all for many months, which had necessitated staying put on the kill site for the several weeks it had taken to properly cure and smoke all the meat, to tan the hide, and generally process the remainder of the usable parts of the carcass. A few carnotaurus. Several flocks of compies, some of which they'd captured and kept for egg production. The list went on.

It was still anyone's guess just what had knocked out all the power that day. Whatever it was seemed to have been global, as near as anyone could tell from the rumors. All of Central America had been affected, as well as, apparently, much of Texas from what they'd gathered when they'd scouted Matamoros on the Mexican side of the border near the mouth of the Rio Grande.

The situation still hadn't improved, even just a couple of miles downriver of Amistad Reservoir. In fact, they'd had to fight their way though plenty of places and out of more situations than Alan cared to contemplate. It had hardened everyone, especially Alexis and Tim. He wasn't even sure their parents were going to recognize them.

That thought shot a pang through him. He and Ellie had both come to think of the Murphys as their own children. That was even after Ellie had birthed Samuel—who was old enough to ride his own llama, tied on of course--and Laura—who still nursed at her mother. In fact, Alexis and Tim treated the Grant children as they would blood-siblings. And if they never found any of the Murphys' relatives? Well, maybe it was true that family didn't have to be related.

The three hundred and fifty miles between Matamoros and Amistad had been particularly demoralizing. It had been one thing to see the countries of Central America disintegrating around them. But the Dragon-slayer Tribe, as everyone had come to call their not-so-little band, had only been passing through. Well, at first anyway. Those who'd joined over the months and miles had just been trying to get out and survive. But somehow they'd always assumed, even against reason, that the United States would be some sort of haven, a modern-day Promised Land.

What they'd seen in Matamoros, and each time Alan had gazed across the border through binoculars since then, had shattered that illusion. Everywhere he'd looked, there had been heaps of burned bodies, more barbed wire than he'd have expected, and either rifle and cannon muzzles or glinting spearheads, often both.

That had been something else that had changed. As the bullet supply had run out, old-school weaponry had replaced it. Alan had seen that time after time, too. The more time passed, the fewer in-service firearms they encountered. The few they'd seen were seldom fired and Ian suspected they were mostly for show. He was probably right.

So they'd used their bows and arrows and trained with machetes and gladii they'd made from leaf-springs. They'd made armor out of plant fibers and animal glue and boiled dinosaur hide. Which had amused Tim to no end until Alexis had smacked him upside the head for making one too many Mad Max and Land of the Lost jokes. But that had been during combat practice and Robert had made her do push-ups for it in lieu of other disciplinary action.

They still had no real answers to the question about what had knocked the power out and the two leading theories—EMP from at least one nuclear detonation, and violent coronal mass ejection—remained untested and untried. It was also still anyone's guess how far the dinosaurs were eventually going to spread. They hadn't seen any since before they'd crossed into Tamaulipas several weeks earlier. The larger theropods could theoretically eat themselves back into extinction. Animals that size needed a lot of food and water and probably wouldn't find enough of either outside of the tropical and subtropical rainforests.

But the smaller ones, like velociraptor and procompognathus, could conceivably spread everywhere the winters were mild enough.

One thing was certain: the next five hundred miles were going to be dicey. They'd be following the Rio Grande clear to New Mexico. That meant a frequently grueling walk along a narrow oasis winding through some of the most unforgiving territory in the American Southwest.

The llamas and horses grazed mostly on grass. Sundancer and the ceratopsians, fortunately, had demonstrated a willingness and ability to eat just about anything, including woody debris. Which was something that had surprised Ellie and delighted Tim. And the gallies tended to snap at most things that moved, often licking mosquitoes right out of the air or slurping ticks off of twigs.

The humans could eat fish from the river, eggs from the compies, and whatever desert fauna they could shoot.

Fortunately, they'd long ago reached a consensus regarding anything with wheels. Pulling even one cart over most of the terrain they'd seen since the Incident would have presented a major problem. But with hooves and feet, there was little or no territory that couldn't be negotiated.

The biggest challenge would be the heat. The weather had been unbearably hot soon after they'd left the coast. The humidity had mercifully dropped, though. But with that came increased risk of dehydration. So the plan was to camp at Amistad Reservoir until the weather cooled in autumn before continuing upriver.

Alan wasn't looking forward to the distinct possibility of having to fight his way into his own country. But that assumed the United States of America still existed as a political entity. Ian expected El Paso to be just like all the other border towns they'd seen: well-fortified and heavily-defended. To what point and purpose no one was sure, but Ian had yet to be wrong when it came to predictions based on on-the-ground observations and evidence. And perhaps that explained his persistent paranoia and pessimism.

So that evening, Alan stood on a bench beside a dry wash halfway around the southern shore of the lake. The sounds of camp--metallic tinking of hammers on metal tent stakes, the grunting of llamas, nickering of horses, snorting of parasaurs and ceratopsians, chittering of compies, and snapping of greasewood fires—put a smile onto Alan's face as he held his family and gazed onto the sunset light. Somehow, despite all the hardship and heartache, there was something viscerally satisfying about what their life had become.

* * *

Alexis Murphy belted out the final refrain of a slightly-altered song she'd been singing as a duet with her brother.

I am Donna Quixote, Lady of La Mancha  
My destiny calls and I go  
And the wild winds of fortune will carry me onward  
Oh whither so ever they blow  
Whither so ever they blow  
Onward to Glory we go!

Everyone clapped and cheered as she and Tim bowed. Then the young lady launched into a story, which ended as it usually did: “And that is how I, Alexis Dragon-slayer, saw it with my own eyes and that is how I now tell it to you.”

Ellie Grant, nee Sattler, smiled as Alexis finished the tale. The young lady certainly had a penchant for such things. While Ellie recognized all the elements of each event, Alexis somehow made it all sound like a Norse saga. Her storytelling style had developed over the years and Ellie suspected it had begun as a way of coping with all the things no twelve-year-old should have had to endure, beginning with being chased by a tyrannosaur.

Then her grandfather had died in her arms, his blood on her skin. Less than a year later, she'd killed her first human. That, more than anything, had changed her in ways that no one could really say. Had it been any wonder that she'd immediately bonded with a dinosaur, or picked a fight with a T-rex? But she'd grown strong through all of that. Alexis was seventeen now and really, Ellie couldn't have been prouder had Alexis been her own daughter.

The past year had been hard. Ellie wondered how often that thought had crossed her mind, even back, another lifetime ago, when she and Alan had been stressing over funding for their dig. Those problems had been so minor in comparison.

Even so, it had been nice to have several months of down time. Everyone still managed to keep busy enough. They'd been lugging stacks and rolls of raw materials all over Central America and everyone had been hard at work converting it into more clothing, armor, weapons, tools, tack, tents, the list went on. A lot of what they already had was in sore need of repair or replacement and much of that work was difficult, even impossible, to do while on the move.

Most couples had also been busy making babies, or at least practicing to make babies. And they weren't always terribly discreet about it. That wasn't surprising, seeing as how privacy had become a very scarce commodity and more illusory than anything.

Spring was just around the corner. Which was just as well, since everyone was growing a little restless. Two babies had been born over winter. That was something else that had been worrying. Not that new life wasn't a reason to celebrate. It was just going to further complicate the border crossing. On the other hand, there were already children and their mothers, so things were already going to be complicated in that way anyhow.

Everyone applauded again as Alexis sat down. Sven kissed her and Ellie was sure there was tongue involved. She smiled. If those two didn't get married at some point, she'd eat her shorts. She wondered for what felt like the thousandth time what else was in store for them all before they finally found a place they could call home.


	6. Chapter 6

Robert Muldoon looked from one face to the other, trying to keep everything, including and especially his peripheral vision, in active memory. He kept his bow lowered enough so as to appear non-threatening, but not so low that he couldn't come to full draw in a second.

The man in front of them looked from him to Grant to Malcolm to Murphy and back several times, apparently trying to make sense of what he saw.

Finally, “Still nope. Like I said, US citizens only. And all yer gear and yer animals we confiscate.”

Dammit, Robert thought. Guy still wasn't budging.

Alan leaned forward slightly. “You're not charging us to enter our own goddam country.” It was the third time he'd said it and he basically growled it that time. “And all our people are coming with us and that's final.”

“And we ain't lettin' a Brit and a bunch o' Mexicans into this country and that's just as final.”

They'd been arguing about it for what felt like an hour, first with one man, then his superior, and then _his_ superior. And at the small, apparently corked-up, Santa Teresa Port of Entry several miles west of El Paso proper, they'd just run out of superiors.

El Paso itself had been a fortress and the Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez remained a burnt-out shell of the city it had once been. They'd skirted its western edge, just close enough to survey what they might have been facing before sending a couple of mounted scouts closer to the El Paso border crossing. That had been two days earlier.

“Then I guess we're done here,” said Grant. He wheeled his horse around. Malcolm followed on his camel, Murphy on Sundancer, Robert bringing up the rear on his gallie.

When they'd retreated out of earshot, Robert said, “Well? What now, O fearless leader?”

“We stick with the plan,” said Grant.

Malcolm groaned. “I hate the plan.”

“Who doesn't?” asked Murphy.

“We all go home,” said Grant, “or nobody goes home.”

That meant going to Plan B, which was really more of an extension of Plan A. None of them had really anticipated being allowed to simply walk across the border with several dozen non-US-citizens and a herd of strange-looking animals. They'd been hoping for it, of course, but not really expecting it.

So they waited until sunset, then struck out westward under cover of darkness, and hunkered down all the next day to await the following sunset. Keeping scores of animals and children from stirring up too much dust was proving a challenge, one they'd have to meet if they were to successfully break across the border fence without a fight. Theoretically, the setting sun would be in the eyes of anyone who might be looking westward.

They chose a site south of the East Portillo Mountains where a set of washes and hills would theoretically shield them from view. Several hours later, the convoy pulled up just below a rim that stood above them to the northeast.  
“Bollocks,” said Robert. “Now I'm wishin' we had one o' those bloody pterodactyls.”

“Me, too,” said Murphy. The lad had pulled up astride his own Gallimimus, which he'd named Loki, after the Norse god of mischief.

Several nods and grunts of assent echoed the sentiment. Such an animal would have come in handy for aerial reconnaissance on a great many occasions. They'd thought about it, of course. But every attempt to capture a pterosaur had always been quickly aborted, mainly because the beasts had proven to be effectively impossible to follow and Grant hadn't been keen on spending human resources on a search, especially since there'd been velociraptors and dilophosaurs about at the time.

“I really don't like the idea of someone unseen getting the drop on us,” said Grant.

“And they can rain arrows and artillery down on us to their hearts' content,” added Malcolm.

At least everyone had already armored up. Robert still thought it looked silly, a sentiment shared by several of the others, the Grants not least among them. But the Murphys and most of those of their own generation had taken to it like a duck to water.

“We ought to gain the rim right here,” said Robert. “It's steeper up north. Gives us a better view and we've already made most of our approach. The last half-mile won't matter as much. We'll be across before anyone who notices can get out here, even at full gallop. And they'd blow their horses long before reaching us anyway.”

“Unless they've anticipated this and already have an ambush,” said Malcolm.

“Must you always be so pessimistic?” asked the Murphy girl.

Malcolm shrugged. “Comes from being always right.”

She rolled her eyes. “No one's always right. Not even you.”

“Okay,” said Grant, “put a sock in it.” He turned toward the others. “Alright, people,” he said loudly, “let's get 'er done!”

He nudged his horse toward a trot. “It's do or die!” he called.

“More like do _and_ die,” Malcolm muttered as he brought his camel up to follow.

Robert put an arrow to the string, holding four more in his bow hand and two more in his string hand. All the others did the same. Something told him they'd all be glad they'd bothered to learn rapid-fire archery.

He looked over his shoulder. All those capable of wielding bow or blade had taken up positions in a ring around the rest. Those on dinosaur-back had been distributed evenly, the paras and trikes toward the front to break down the fence, the swift-footed gallies at the rear to cover any flanking attempts. Lady Grant and others on horse, burro, or camel were to remain with the core group as defense.

Robert crested the rise, bow at the ready. So far, so good. He steered northward, still at a trot, Grant several paces ahead, the Murphys and others several paces behind. Thudding footsteps of several kinds of animals, many of them weighing at least two tons, carried a variety of rhythms. They also kicked up a phenomenal amount of dust, the prevailing wind blowing it away toward the northwest.

The fence rose before them, visible as a rust-brown line contrasting with the orange rusty dust at their feet and the brown-grey hills to the north. Another plume of dust rose up from the other side of the fence.

“Ah, crap,” said Malcolm. “Those guys are really starting to damage my calm.”

“Screw calm,” said Murphy. “Die gloriously in battle and go to Valhalla!”

Robert chuckled to himself. That hadn't been quite what he'd meant when he'd talked to her about religion two years before. But she seemed to believe it. And that, he had to admit, was more important than _what_ she believed. At least in the context of dealing with violence.

Murphy brought Sundancer up to a full run, the animal tilting up on her hind legs. A pair of triceratops flanked her like prehistoric rhinos. The trio pulled ahead, thoroughly trampling everything in their path. Which was just as well, since everyone had grown thoroughly fed-up with working bits of cactus and such out of animal hair and having such a well-plowed swath for once was not likely to come amiss.

Robert nudged his Gallimimus to keep up with the larger dinosaurs mowing the road before him. He raised his bow, allowing his nerves to fall away, situational awareness taking over. Minutes later, the rusty wall rose up in front of them. A ten-meter-wide section of it went down with a shriek of rending metal as more than twenty thousand pounds of dinosaur careened through it like so much tissue paper.

Robert and the others poured through behind them. Then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Ian Malcolm swung one limb of his bow stave around behind him and tapped his camel up to a gallop. Ahead, Sundancer and the two trikes ran straight into the steel-plated border fence. The parasaur's front feet hit the upper portion of it moments before the trikes hit the rest. The whole thing folded like so much origami, squealing as though it were a living thing.

Ian felt the change as his camel's feet thumped across the metal and then back to hard-packed earth of the patrol road on the other side. He arced right, toward the line of horses and camels hurtling toward him. His fellow Dragon-slayers pounded the ground behind him and came up abreast, spreading out into a single line. All bows came up and Ian felt the strain as he came to full draw.

He weighed the odds in his mind. Dammit. They were outnumbered three...no, four to one. But they had the sun at their backs, several large dinosaurs, rapid-fire archery skills, steel, fiber, and dinosaur-hide armor, and more than three years of hard, on-the-ground combat experience, some of it against the likes of velociraptor, carnotaurus, and T-rex.

Their opponents had cross-bows, single-shot and breech-loading firearms, and rudimentary hand grenades.

The distinctive SNAP-POP of gunpowder drifted across the wind, wisps of smoke rising up from the enemy line. Ian felt the whistle of a bullet whip past his head a moment before he heard the weapon that had fired it.

“Wholly together!” shouted Robert. “And...SHOOT!”

A dozen and a half bowstrings snapped against bracers. Over and over. SNAP-SNAP-SNAP.... Six arrows sailed through the air, each only a few seconds behind the other.

Ian grabbed another fistful of arrows, putting one to the string, and holding four others in his bow hand. He drew...held a moment, then sent all five cloth-yard shafts at the enemy in thrice as many seconds.

A quarter of the enemy line went down almost at once. Horses and camels rolled over their riders. A few fell in front of their neighbors, bringing them down as well.

Another wave of bullets fired. He felt one smack into his upper arm, embedding itself into his fiber armor. That was going to leave a bruise. He ignored it, as he ignored the scream of a Dragon-slayer horse falling somewhere off to his right and a bellow from one of the trikes.

A crossbow bolt bounced painfully off his helm. Then the lines met.

To his left, he saw one of the trikes run straight into an enemy camel. One of its longer horns tore through the camel's neck, then ripped through the leg of its rider.

Sundancer knocked a horse casually aside, crushing the animal's ribcage under two tons of weight, the tip of her tail effortlessly swatting another enemy from the saddle.

Ian wheeled about, putting another arrow to the string, tapping his camel back up to speed.

“Reform the line!” Robert shouted.

Ian fell in with his fellows, swerving around fallen horses, camels, and men. He didn't have time to sort out fallen friend from foe, nor injured from dead. He pulled three more shafts and fired them off. The first embedded in a horse's rump, the second in its rider's back, the third missing.

Several more enemy went down. They spurred their mounts to a full gallop, heading straight toward the gap in the fence.

Ian's eyes went wide. Oh, no, they were not doing what it looked like. “Oh, shit!”

“After them!” yelled Robert. The same thought had apparently occurred to the Brit.

Ian was already on it. Sundancer reached the fence first, plowing into an adjacent section, and bringing it down like a playing card. Then Ian was through the gap. He could see the twinkle of arrowheads and hear gun shots. The others back in the caravan would probably have a single volley, perhaps two, before the enemy were on them.

Catching an enemy between hammer and anvil was one thing. Doing it at rapidly diminishing range was something else entirely. Ian swore under his breath, then returned his bow to its scabbard and drew his gladius with his right hand and a javelin with his left. He hated hand-to-hand, but the risk of friendly fire had just become too great.

Alexis continued to lob arrows at the enemy. Robert would probably ream her a new one over it, but that would likely be more on principle than anything. She was the best shot in the Tribe and everyone knew it. Sundancer's smoother gait also made shooting in motion a lot less problematic and everyone knew that, too.

Enemy mounts went down, one here and one there. Screams and cries went up, faint above the pounding of camel feet and his own breathing, muted further by distance and wind direction. It was impossible to tell whose throats they were.

The enemy split, roughly half veering right and half left. An explosion erupted near the caravan, then another right in the middle. More screams rose up from both human and animal throats and both scattered like water on a hot plate.

“Bastards!” Ian grunted. There were women and children in there! Sure, fair fights were for suckers. Every warrior knew that. But attacking innocent bystanders like that was just wrong on so many levels. Ian forced his rage back just a little. Anger was a weapon only to one's opponent, a weapon the enemy was probably trying to use to force a critical mistake.

The El Pasoans wheeled again. Moments later, the lines met once more.

Ian's hurled his javelin into a man's chest. The crack of obsidian through bone was audible. Most of the charge ground to a screeching halt as the noise of close combat rose sharply.

Ian swung his round shield from his back just in time to block a saber. The light blade bounced off it, though the blow would certainly have cloven an unacceptable amount of flesh from an unprotected arm. Even his fiber vambraces wouldn't have withstood repeated strikes from even a light blade, to say nothing of the impact.

He shoved his shield hard, the steel center boss meeting something hard, but yielding. A grunt of pain told him it had been something important.

The CRACK of a pistol sounded nearby. Then his camel abruptly dropped out from under him. He was immediately glad camels were ridden more or less sidesaddle. He'd tried the whole rapid dismount thing from a horse before, but he'd found the stirrups to be highly problematic. He'd further found that the camel matched his own temperament better, or so Tim had insisted.

The beast tipped as it fell, spilling Ian onto his back. He spun and rolled upright, regaining his feet in a crouching position. He turned to find an enemy pointing a pistol at him from two dozen paces. His pulse quickened.

The man turned toward something to his right, then did a double-take. He started to pivot. A moment later, one of the trikes slammed into him. His body folded around the animal's nasal horn. Moments after that, the animal shoved broadside into an enemy horse...and kept going. Four tons of charging dinosaur and rider just didn't stop very well.

Ian ignored the mercifully short-lived squeals of equine agony. He watched as the “gunner” on the trike hurled a javelin through the back of an El Paso camel jockey from half a dozen paces. The combined speed of the throw and the moving mount sent the obsidian head clear through the man's body, blood and bits of bone hanging briefly in the air.

An impact against his sword-arm shoulder became a cross-bow bolt lodged in the top several layers of fiber armor just below the steel shoulder cop. A slice with his shield snapped the shaft off. He rushed the man who'd fired it from behind the body of what Ian presumed to have been his horse.

He vaulted over the animal and kicked the man in the face. He went down screaming. Ian plunged his blade down through the man's shoulder, then pulled it cleanly free.

Over to the left, Tim and Ysabel stood back to back, fighting a trio of the enemy. As he watched, the girl blocked one saber blow, then shoved the tip of her gladius into her opponent's throat.

Another grenade went off somewhere to his right.

Ian turned, then nearly froze. A few dozen yards away, his wife Maria held off four armed men with a frying pan and an axe. Five children cowered behind her, two of them holding spears, another a round shield propped against the ground. That stand-off was not likely to last long.

He bellowed a challenge, then charged. He'd closed half the distance before anyone seemed to have noticed.

One of the men looked over his shoulder, then pulled a pistol...and shot one of the children. Ian shifted his blade to his shield hand, pulled his tomahawk, and hurled it. The head sank into the man's shoulder near the neck and he went down screaming. Bastard didn't deserve a quick death anyway, Ian thought.

He grasped his gladius again as the three remaining men spun to face him. He yelled again, then body-checked the first, sending him sprawling. The second swung, catching Ian in the ribs. He grunted from the impact.

That man's face suddenly went slack, then he fell over, a spear sticking out of his lower back and Maria's axe embedded in his upper spine.

Ian locked blades with the third. He was good...and fast! Ian caught every other strike with the edge of his shield, the man parrying Ian's own counter-strikes with a large knife.

Ian was already sweating and tiring. His sword caught the man's knife hand, the weapon cartwheeling away to land tinkling in the dirt.

Ian saw Maria lunge forward, her frying pan connecting edge-wise with the soldier's knee. It buckled and he went down. Ian shifted for the killing blow, then paused as Maria slammed her cast iron into the man's skull. He collapsed like a rag doll.

“Good work, honey,” said Ian. Then, “Tabitha!”

Maria gasped. “Ian!” She pointed behind him.

He turned to meet a giant of a man. He had to be something like six foot six and at least three hundred pounds of solid muscle. Well, the bigger they were, the harder they fell. Ian readied himself.

The man laughed. “I'm gonna gut you like a pig,” he jeered. “Then, as you lay dying, you'll watch as I rape your woman. And those girls.”

“The hell you will,” Ian growled.

“You just watch, you pussy.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged!” The man swung with a machete.

Ian dodged. He stepped in and thrust. The man scooted backward handily. Ian blocked the next blow with his shield. The force of it went all the way up to his shoulder.

Ian thrust again, making contact against his opponent's lower ribs. It wasn't a critical strike, but it might provide enough of a distraction. He thrust again, upward, his blade plunging into an arm. Again, not a critical strike.

Another blow on Ian's shield sent him back a pace, the wood cracking. “Pussy,” the man growled.

“Asshole,” Ian spat back. He lunged again, his blade sinking into the man's abdomen. He withdrew it and braced for another blow. If he could time it right, with his opponent off-balance and mid-stroke...

Another blow landed on the shield, splintering it in two. Ian took advantage of that and shoved his blade into the man's chest. “Gotcha!” He stepped back as the man fell to his knees. “Who's the pussy now, bitch?”

Ian gasped in agony. A sharp, intense pain shot outward from his navel, quickly rising up through his abdomen and into his lower chest. He froze.

His shield arm went slack and he found himself looking into the face of his killer, the man's hand poised near Ian's waist. That bastard just wouldn't die. He sneered as he jerked his reddened blade back out. Ian drew a ragged breath. Damn if it didn't hurt twice as much on the way out. Ian slashed downward, his stroke driven more by gravity than by his failing muscles. It connected with the side of his opponent's neck and lodged there. Then Ian collapsed onto his back, looking up at the waning daylight.

* * *

Robert knelt beside Malcolm. Maria had stripped his armor, then cut his tunic from him and placed it under his head. The wound, a single saber thrust, didn't look bad from the outside. But he knew that was probably wishful thinking.

Maria's description of the fight and Ian's answers to Robert's questions, plus the persistent bleeding, the volume of it, and the little bit that trickled from Ian's mouth all pointed to a grim prognosis. He glanced up at both Murphys. The girl knelt opposite Robert, the boy standing behind her. Both had shed their helms.

“The ship,” Malcolm grunted, “out of danger?”

“Yeh,” Robert answered.

“And Tabitha?”

“Shoulder flesh wound. Clean through-and-through. She'll heal.”

Malcolm nodded, grunted, then coughed, a little more blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the Murphys. “Die gloriously in battle and go to Valhalla, huh?”

“Ian...” It was Sattler-Grant.

“Gotta die of something,” said Malcolm. “May as well make it count, right? Still, who could have predicted...”

“Shut up!” several of them interrupted at once.

The Murphy girl picked up Malcolm's hand and squeezed it. “You fought well,” she said firmly. “You shielded the innocent. You slew the wicked. And this day, you die with honor. Tonight, you feast in the mead halls alongside the honored dead.”

No one bothered to correct the girl. Well, young woman, really.

Maria clasped Malcolm's other hand, her own tears streaming down her face. His eyes met and held hers.

“I guess you won't have to be an ex-Missus Malcolm, right?” he said. He lay a bloody hand on her distended abdomen. “Take care of this one. Tell him...her...all about me. But only the good stuff.” She leaned down and kissed him, her lips lingering on his.

Malcolm's chest rose, fell, rose, fell again...and stayed that way. Murphy closed his eyes. No one else moved for a couple of minutes after that.

Gradually, all the post-battle sounds returned to Robert's awareness. Over the years, going clear back to his military service in the British Army, people tended to think that most of the work of war was done in battle. He'd found out the hard way, and rather quickly, that such ideas were quite mistaken. No, the real work started after the battle was over.

Within the next half-hour, daylight had failed enough that everything had to be done with lantern light and the wind-up flashlights Grant, Murphy, and Richards had developed. Robert was quite sure that was a mercy. It wasn't anyone's first party, so to speak, but it was a lot easier to focus when the entire field of carnage wasn't visible all at once. And a light radius was an excellent way to achieve that.

Unsurprisingly, no one slept that night. Anger, grief, lingering adrenaline highs, and caring for the wounded kept everyone awake. Many, Robert himself admittedly, had wanted to withhold the mercy stroke from the enemy wounded. But Grant had finally made an executive decision and ordered that stroke to be given.

Everyone had to grudgingly concede that to do otherwise was inhumane and that by failing to do so, they themselves would have been no better than their assailants. Besides, the screaming, wailing, and crying for their mothers was getting on everyone's nerves and their own wounded and grieving were more than bad enough.

The following week was tense. The Tribe set up camp a hundred meters north of the border road. Grant said he'd be damned if he was going to let the bastards keep them from home. From there, cleanup had continued in near-silence. One thing about fighting in wide-open spaces was that things tended to spread out a lot. Which meant having to cover a lot of ground.

Enemy dead were unceremoniously left where they'd fallen, abandoned for desert scavengers. There'd been some debate as to whether or not they deserved a decent burial. Everyone was angry at them, of course, some bitterly so. If any of the enemy still lived, they would doubtless have said they'd just been following orders. But Dragon-slayer Code and philosophy stated unequivocally that there was no such thing as “just following orders,” especially in defense of wrongdoing. And an attack on children was unarguably wrong, no matter what.

Besides, on a practical matter, the Tribe had far more of their own work to do. The consensus was that the aftermath might serve as an example of what not to do. And on a human level, those people undoubtedly had family that loved them, too. For those reasons, the bodies were simply left where they'd fallen after being stripped of anything useful, which wasn't much.

Dragon-slayer dead were wrapped in cloth and set aside for decent burial or cremation, depending on their beliefs and known wishes, and on either American or Mexican soil, also depending on known wishes. Cremation of the Mesoamerican dead was to be postponed until just before departure, lest the thick smoke draw too much attention. American dead were wrapped in cloth, then loaded onto greasewood litters to be dragged far enough north that their bodies wouldn't be so readily desecrated by El Pasoans itching for revenge.

It took two days to retrieve all the animals that had run off in the chaos of battle. That made certain things tricky, given that all the Tribe's possessions were strapped to those beasts. Fortunately, the dusty soil made every animal easy to track.

It was still anyone's guess whether any of the enemy had managed to peel off from the battle and ride back to El Paso for reinforcements. No one had observed it, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. But when no more enemy had appeared by dusk of the second day, the consensus was that no one had escaped. Though that didn't mean a scouting party wouldn't be sent to investigate why the original force failed to return. The Dragon-slayers would just have to make sure they'd moved on well before then.

When all the dust had settled, there'd been twenty-seven dead, including two children and a pregnant mother, and forty-eight wounded, including five children and another pregnant mother. Roughly a third of the animals had died, a few of which had to be put down from their injuries. Considering that there'd been close to a hundred of the enemy, it could have been a whole lot worse.

They'd salvaged two dozen enemy animals, all their weapons and equipment, and whatever clothing was still usable, which was mainly hats, pants, socks, and boots.

It had taken another three days before the worst of the wounded were deemed stable enough to move. A few of them were still questionable, in Sattler-Grant's view, but a couple of additional days were needed anyway to finish preparing salvaged meat well enough that it wouldn't spoil.

But they were running perilously low on water. Some of it had spilled out onto the ground when bladders and barrels had been punctured during the fight. Some had been needed for irrigating wounds in addition to usual drinking. They hadn't had that much water storage anyway.

They still had at least thirty miles of travel due north along the eastern front of the Portillo Mountains, then a dozen more eastward back to the Rio Grande upriver of Las Cruces. At least the spring weather was reasonably cool. Robert wouldn't have wanted to try it in August.

Some days later, Robert looked back over his shoulder at the lingering crematory smoke rising from the edge of what had once been the Robledo Mountains Wilderness Study Area. As with so much else, there'd been some debate about that. The families of the dead hadn't been ready to let them go just yet. That really went without saying. Others had wanted to carry the dead closer to wherever home had been for them before the Flare.

But the bodies were beginning to smell and it had only been the dry desert air that had delayed that for so long. Transporting them much further was going to become even more unpleasant and probably in rather short order, especially if it were to rain. That wasn't to mention the increased associated health risk. Besides, that sort of thing was more of an Industrial-Age luxury anyhow.

So Grant had made an executive decision and the Tribe had camped near the river and held a single, mass funeral a half-mile away at the opposite edge of the RMWSA. Funeral pyres had been built using whatever shrubbery could be found, mainly greasewood, creosote, and yucca. Graves had been dug into the ground at the base of a scarp at the western edge of the small alluvial plain, then reinforced using copious amounts of rock. It reminded Robert a little of photos he'd seen of American pioneer graves along the Oregon Trail.

He was beginning to see why the indigenous peoples in the region had taken to simply laying their dead out in the open to allow their bodies to be reclaimed by nature. It was simple and, in a certain sense, poetic.  
Fresh tears still stained many faces and probably would for however long it would take for each survivor to run through his or her own grieving process. He felt another twinge of grief himself over Malcolm. The man had been disagreeable on so many levels, and several people had said so during his eulogy, one of the many that had been conducted over the course of the last fortnight.

On the third morning since arriving at the river, it had been time to go. And so Robert and everyone else had bidden their lost loved ones a final farewell before they'd all trudged on northward.


	7. Chapter 7

Ellie Sattler-Grant turned toward the sounds of approaching footsteps. Alexis Murphy wore a worried expression on her face as she walked into the medical tent.

Which was really the Grant tent, doubling as a sort of doctor's office by day. The irony of all that was still not lost on her. She held a Doctorate in paleontology with an emphasis in paleobotany. But, circumstances having been as they'd been, she'd gone in a different direction. Despite the challenges, and while she still missed digging things up out of the ground, she never really looked back.

Alexis sat gingerly on one of the folding wooden stools and exhaled heavily. Ellie let the girl...well, young woman really...take her time with whatever it was.

“Mom?” said Alexis at length. That had been another recent development and the subject of much discussion that still had yet to go anywhere but around and around itself.

“Yes, Alexis?” Ellie had long ago, well before the Isla Nublar incident even, mastered the art of a disarming tone.

Alexis exhaled heavily. “Promise you won't be mad?”

Ellie cocked an eyebrow. “As your doctor, absolutely. As your godmother, not really. But I do promise not to judge.”

Alexis' eyes narrowed slightly, then her shoulders slumped. “I...I think I might be pregnant,” she said quickly and quietly.

Ellie wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. “Um...can you...say that again?”

Alexis half-glared. “I said I think I'm pregnant.” She nearly growled it. Then, “Sorry. It's...I'm kind of stressed out about it.”

Ellie forced herself to wait before saying anything. “I see,” she said evenly.

“What am I gonna do?”

“Well, first I have to ask you the usual questions, even the ones I think I know the answers to.”

Alexis nodded.

Ellie picked up a clipboard, turned to a fresh sheet of paper, and picked up a pencil. “When was your last period?”

Alexis cocked an eyebrow. “We're synced, remember?”

Ellie nodded. “I know. Standard medical question.”

The girl sighed. “The last time you had yours.”

“That long ago?”

The entire Tribe had contracted a stomach bug roughly three months before. It had run its course, though a few people had taken substantially longer to recover.

“Yeah. I mean, we were all queasy for a while after that. So I thought it was just that. But it didn't go away. I guess I should have suspected when it only lasted an hour every morning. And then I missed a period...and another. But I...was hoping I was imagining things. I mean...I don't know. I told myself I couldn't possibly be pregnant, but, well, of course I could. Sven and I...we...you know.”

“If you're old enough to do it, you're old enough to talk about it.”

Alexis exhaled. “We had sex, okay? 

Ellie smiled. “Fun, isn't it?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Okay, it's amazing. But...uh...I already knew that.”

“Anything else unusual?”

“Not really. I mean, I feel a little more hungry than usual. And I think I might be starting to get a little pudgy. Which shouldn't be happening because, well, we all get so much da...rned exercise.”

Ellie scrawled all of that on the paper.

“I'm not old enough to...okay, fine, I _am_ old enough to be a mother. But I'm not old enough to be a mom! Does that make any sense?”

Ellie nodded. “Yes. Yes, it does. I had to drag Alan kicking and screaming into parenthood and that was even after more or less adopting you and Tim. He still damn near panicked when he found out I was pregnant with Sam and half of us swore he was going to have a heart attack when the little guy was born.”

“But I'm not ready!” Alexis protested.

Ellie shrugged. “Neither was I.”

“What? But you're...almost old enough to be my mother.”

“Well, technically, I _am_ old enough to be your mother. Not by much, but still. That's not the point, though. The point is that no one's really ready until it happens to them. Every one of us learns on the job. It's terrifying at first, but the moment you look into your baby's face, all doubt is erased forever. It's weird and it might not be helpful, but it's true and you won't really understand until it happens to you. Been there, done that, bought the tee-shirt.”

Alexis sighed, then said nothing for several moments. “There's pennyroyal,” she said flatly.

“Is that what you really want?” Ellie asked gently.

“I don't know.”

“Are you sure it's Sven's?”

“Mom!”

“I had to ask. I mean, you could be...”

“Well, I'm not.”

“So he's your first, then?”

Alexis scowled. “You said you won't judge.”

Ellie nodded. “That's right.”

Alexis exhale heavily. “When I first found Sundancer...and I was riding her...then, like, a few months after I started having my period...the way that central ridge rubs right there...yeah.”

Ellie nodded.

“You...don't act surprised.”

“Not really, no. I'm a woman. An experienced, active woman, no less. I could tell.”

Alexis sat up straight. “You...you did? And you didn't say anything?”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“No!”

“Well, then?”

At first there was silence. “Did...anyone else know?”

“I very much doubt it. Tim was too young to recognize it. He probably still is...I think. And if he had, do you think he'd have left you alone about it?”

Alexis shook her head.

“Robert's too much of a gentleman to say anything. Alan's been distracted by...well, pretty much everything. And Ian...no disrespect to his memory or his family, but I don't think he'd have recognized a female orgasm if it walked up and sat on his face.” That drew a giggle, which Ellie took as a good sign. “I suspect all the others had too many of their own worries,” she added.

“There was...another time. You...uh...might not like it.”

“Still won't judge. You know that.”

Alexis took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. “Remember when you made me gut that tee-rex?”

Ellie nodded.

“After I took my clothes off and crawled back inside...everything was all warm and slippery and squishy, like, everywhere, including you-know-where.” At Ellie's raised eyebrow, Alexis added, “Around my vagina, okay? So I...uh...got curious...and stuck my hand down there...and...well...yeah.”

Ellie snorted laughter.

“It's not funny!”

“I'm sorry. But it kind of is. You know, some people actually find that sort of thing erotic.”

Alexis blinked. “They do? You mean I'm not...a sexual freak or something?”

“Not remotely.” Ellie paused. “Have you told Sven about any of this?”

“Of course not! He'd...I don't know...freak out.”

“About which part?”

“Uh...all of it? Especially the getting off inside a dinosaur part.”

Ellie smiled. “But was it fun?”

“Agh! Mom!”

Ellie laughed.

Alexis crossed her arms. “Yes, actually, it was. But, seriously, do you think he'd be turned off by it?”

“First of all, he's your fiance.” Alexis started to protest, but Ellie continued. “Okay, not technically, but I think we all know it's only a matter of time. The point is, you know him better than anyone. Second, in my experience, men his age have exactly two modes when it comes to sex.”

“On and off?”

“No. On and onner.”

Alexis laughed. “That's not a word!”

“No, but it's still true. My point is that it might shock him, but it still won't take him long to get over it.”

“Won't take him long to want me again, you mean?”

“No, I mean he doesn't stop wanting you. Even right after he's just had you.”

Alexis snickered.

“What I'm saying is that first of all, you're both young and violently in love with each other. That much is obvious.” Ellie paused. “It wasn't a one-night stand, was it?”

Alexis looked horrified. “No!” Then she blushed furiously. “Fine, we had sex over and over and over and I loved every minute of it. Well, the first time kind of hurt. Yeah, I know, we were supposed to be out surveying and such.”

“And so you surveyed each other. Got it.”

“But there's the age thing. I'm...not eighteen yet. And he's twenty-one. Doesn't that make it...statutory?”

Elle cocked her head. “He didn't...force you...did he?”

Alexis' jaw dropped. “No! He'd never do that. It was...well, I came onto him. He kept asking if I was sure I wanted to do it, right up until I pulled his pants down.”

“I see,” said Ellie pensively.

“Are you sure you're not upset?”

Ellie shook her head, then placed a hand on Alexis' shoulder. “Nope. A little disappointed, maybe. And...Alan would be annoyed that you two were, shall we say, laying down on the job?”

Alexis frowned. “But we got it done.”

Ellie gestured at Alexis' abdomen. “So it would seem. Look, I've never been a proponent of extramarital sex. It tends to cause problems. That's why there are provisions about it in the Code. But anthropologically, the definition of marriage is somewhat fluid. In fact, in some cultures you'd be considered married already. In others, you wouldn't be regarded as fully married until you'd given birth to your first child.

“As for the statutory thing...I've always found that a little...slippery. Besides, to whom would I report you?

“My point is that you two are already committed to each other for life. So...enjoy it. A lot. What's the worst that can happen?”

Alexis sighed. “Well...I'm already pregnant, so...yeah, I guess you have a point. Do you think I should keep it?”

“Let me tell you something. Going clear back into high school, I've had friends and acquaintances faced with the very same thing. Some of them chose to keep their babies and some of them didn't. What's important is that there are always consequences either way and that's something 'they' rarely told any of us.

“A couple of my friends who didn't keep theirs confided in me afterward. I'll spare you the details, but believe me, you don't want to go through that. Will Sven be terrified when he finds out you're pregnant? Probably. But he'll get over it. And if you take the pennyroyal, then you'll also have to decide whether or not to tell him about it. Doctor-patient confidentiality prevents me from, shall we say, tattling on you. If you don't, you'll have to live with that hanging over your head and that's the sort of thing that's been known to drive a wedge between a couple. If you do, then he might have a hard time forgiving you. That's not uncommon either. The point is that there are consequences either way.”

“Like my first kill. I had to live with shooting a man in the back. But if I'd stood there and let him rape Susanna, I'd have had to live with that, instead.”

“Exactly. We can sit here and talk around the ethics and the morality and the philosophy all day and believe me, I have. But the reality is that when the sun goes down, you still have to sleep with whatever it is you've done.”

“So...you think I should keep it.”

Ellie smiled. “As a mother of two...” She patted her own abdomen. “...going on three, I strongly recommend it. It takes courage, which you have in spades, and a lot of work, but it's totally worth it. Let me show you something. And, yes, this is part of a routine examination.”

Ellie set her papers down and picked up a stethoscope. “I need your bare belly,” she said.

Alexis sighed, then grabbed the hem of her knee-length sundress and hiked it up to just under her bosom. “Is that good?”

“Perfect.” Elle put the ear-buds into her ears, then put the bell against Alexis' abdomen and listened, moving it around a little. After a few moments, she smiled.

“What?” said Alexis.

Ellie passed the earbuds to Alexis, who stuck them into her own ears. After a few moments, Alexis' eyes widened. “Is that...” she whispered.

“Your baby's heartbeat, yes,” Ellie replied quietly.

Alexis listened for what were probably several minutes, staring at nothing in particular. Then she yanked the instrument from her body and thrust it at Ellie. “I...I can't,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

Ellie took the stethoscope and placed it on a table. “You can't what?”

“I...she...he...my baby's alive! I can't kill it! I just can't! I have a person inside of me, a person who hasn't done anything, and I just can't kill it in cold blood!” Alexis dissolved into tears.

Ellie stood up, stepped over, and took Alexis in her arms.

After a few minutes, Alexis quieted down. “I'm scared,” she said.

“Really? I didn't think there there was much of anything that intimidated you anymore.”

Alexis almost glared.

“No, seriously. I've seen the sorts of things you've done. You're the most courageous woman I've ever known. You have more guts than most other people I've known of either gender. You're tough, strong, more than a little strong-willed, and I can count on one hand the number of things I've seen you back down from and none of them since the first month after the Flare. And you're telling me your afraid of a baby?”

Alexis averted her gaze. “He might not want me anymore.”

Ellie sighed, then gave Alexis a hug. She pulled back. “Yes, he will. I've been watching you both since you met and you're perfect for each other. I think you're more afraid of all the uncertainty. That's perfectly natural and you won't be doing it alone. And I understand.”

“You? How?”

“You know those women I mentioned who confided in me about their babies?”

Alexis nodded.

“Well, I'm one of them.”

Alexis' eyes widened.

“I was seventeen and in much the same situation as yourself. I was terrified and...I did what I did. I tried not to look back, but...I still do. The pain dulls over time, but I always wonder how my life would have been different had I kept it.”

Alexis gently rubbed her own not-quite-flat belly, then sighed. “Yeah. I think I'd always be imagining what color her eyes would be, or how tall he'd be. Or picturing him galloping along shooting arrows. Or her holding my grandbaby.” She started to tear up again. “I don't think I could bear that either.” She took a breath. “Besides, I guess I have to make up for the lives I've ended, don't I?”

Ellie put an arm around Alexis. “Well...I'm not sure that's the best reason for having a baby. But I know that's always bothered you. And I don't blame you one bit. You know what?”

“What?”

“I think you'll be an amazing mom.”

“Really?”

Ellie nodded. “Really. And I'm not just saying that.” She leaned closer. “Besides, as your doctor, I see no medical reason why you shouldn't carry your baby to term. You're young, strong, and healthy and your baby's heartbeat sounds normal. As your godmother, I want to see what color her eyes are, or whether or not he decides to grow his hair out and put it up in a ponytail.”

Alexis laughed, then her face went serious. “I still have to tell Sven.”

“Hey, I'll be right here, regardless. Because I love you. You know that, right?”

Alexis nodded.

“Besides, you're a warrior maiden and I've never seen you back down from anything. You can do this. And if it helps, I'm your back-up.”

Alexis smiled weakly, then stood up, took a deep breath, and walked out of the tent. Ellie watched as Alexis walked across the clearing, making a bee-line for Sven.

Alexis took him by the arm and led him to the edge of the ponderosa pines that ringed the large meadowy area where the Tribe had camped. It was too far for the conversation to carry, but Ellie could read the body language. Alexis was stiff as she said whatever she had to say to Sven.

Sven took a step backward, looked down at Alexis' midsection, then back at her face. He abruptly stepped forward, grabbed her head, and planted a kiss on her mouth. Ellie felt her mouth curve upward in a smile.

Sven pulled back again, then took Alexis' hands in his own and sank onto one knee. Several moments later, Alexis nodded vigorously. Sven kissed Alexis' belly, then rose to kiss her lips. He picked her up, twirled her around, then set her back down and kissed her again. The kisses deepened and Ellie was sure there had to be tongue involved. They exchanged a few more words, then Sven went back to whatever he'd been doing, and Alexis trotted back to Ellie, grinning from ear to ear, ponytail swishing along behind her head.

“Well,” said Ellie, “it looks like that went well.”

Alexis nodded. “Very,” she said.

Ellie smirked. “Please tell me there was a little tongue involved in that kiss.”

Alexis blushed. “As a matter of fact, there was. And it was more than a little. And he wants to hear the heartbeat, too.”

“Oh, good.” Ellie hugged her, then said, “So when's the wedding?”

“Uh...dunno. We...didn't get to that.”

Ellie nodded. “Might want to make it soon.”

“Um...sure. I'll talk to him.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Yeah. Much. And Mom?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks. That helped...a lot. It really did.”

She wrapped both arms around Ellie and hugged hard. Ellie hugged back.

“Any time. And thank you for coming to me about this,” said Ellie. “That showed real maturity. Oh, one more thing,” Ellie added.

“What's that?”

“I'm prescribing the pregnancy regimen.”

That meant extra servings of eggs, goat and llama dairy, organ meats, and dried kelp, among other things. Back before the Flare, it would likely have meant more exercise, too.

“Um...okay,” said Alexis hesitantly.

Ellie shrugged. “Everyone's going to find out sooner or later, right?”

Alexis nodded.

“And you should tell your godfather. For two reasons. First, this is a medical matter. And as such, the Code requires you and your doctor to inform your parental figures. Yes, I know I'm both. But I also know Alan. And so, second, I know he'd greatly appreciate hearing it from you before he finds out from the Dragon-slayer rumor mill. And you know how that is.”

“Will _he_ be upset?”

Ellie looked up. “I think you're about to find out.”

Alan walked up and cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “Lunch is on,” he said. Then he looked from Ellie to Alexis and back. “Should I ask?”

“Yeah, actually,” said Alexis. She shared another glance with Ellie.

“What?” Alan asked nervously.

Alexis took a deep breath. “Dad...I'm pregnant. Mom knows. My baby has a heartbeat. I'm keeping it. Sven's the father. He knows. He proposed to me. And I said yes.” She exhaled.

Alan stood there for several moments, blinking. “Wow,” he said at length. Then he gave Alexis a hug. “How do you feel about this?”

“You're...not upset?”

Alan shook his head. “You might recall Ellie was pregnant with Sam before we got married.” He chuckled. “So...don't have much room to talk. Even if I did, you're more mature than most twenty-year-olds I've known.”

“We're happy for you. Sven's thrilled. We're thrilled to have him as our godson-in-law.”

“It's about time, by the way,” said Alan.

“You're feeling pretty good about it now. Am I right?”

Alexis smiled again. “Sure.”

“Do you have any more questions about all this?”

Alexis shook her head. “I think being around you with Sam and Laura...and the other moms...I know...okay, not everything, but I at least know what to expect when I'm expecting.”

Ellie nodded. “Fair enough.” She pointed to the side of her head. “And these ears?”

“Always open.”

“Yup.”

“So...you wouldn't mind if Sven and I have some steamy sex tonight?” She grinned.

“Hey,” said Ellie, “you're a grown woman. But in my opinion, sex is a very spiritual thing and not to be taken lightly. Besides, if you do, the whole camp will probably rib you about it tomorrow. You might want to save it for your wedding night.”

“Good point,” said Alexis. “We're a little...uh...never mind.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie.

“Sounds like a little TMI to me, too,” said Alan.

“Still,” said Ellie, “it's entirely up to the two of you.”

They exchanged hugs again and Alexis trotted purposefully off across the grounds. Ellie smiled and stroked her own barely-showing belly. Such moments made it all worthwhile.


	8. Chapter 8

A strong afternoon breeze blew off the Modoc Plateau to the east, its heat moderated a little by the expansive meadow along the upper reaches of the McCloud River. The Tribe's tents clustered beneath a clump of pines and the animals watered at a few pools formed where the topography released the stream from its confinement.

Robert Muldoon stood casually in his best compie-skin suit. Most of those assembled also wore some sort of animal skins as part or all of their clothing. He was beginning to understand what Malcolm had once said about the lot of them turning into the Flintstones.

A few dozen paces in front of him stood a large cabin tent. The entire Tribe sat on blankets or small wooden stools, all facing him and divided roughly in half with a two-meter-wide aisle between them. Sven Richards stood next to him. The massive bulk of Mt. Shasta loomed over them from behind, making a perfect backdrop for the occasion.

A lone piper stood downwind, the drone of the highland pipes carrying a suitably Scottish tune. Robert resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The Tribe had begun as a small group of Anglo-Celts running from several exquisite forms of death, but had become its own melting pot over the course of its northward journey.

So the diversity of the music played and sung both on the road and at camp tended to be closely tied to that diversity and also limited to available instruments and people who knew how to play them. Musical tastes were often secondary and various Tribe members had created some rather odd arrangements of a very wide variety of music.

But as the whole day revolved around Alexis Murphy, she'd been the one to choose the musical selection. As the Scottish tune wound down, a violinist began to play an arrangement of a song called “Tall Trees, Long Shadows.”

The tent across the way opened and Grant and Alexis stepped out. Grant wore a nicely-tailored, undyed linen shirt, dilophosaur-skin utili-kilt, and knee-high raptor-hide boots. Robert noted passively how odd it was that such a getup didn't really detract from the bride.

Alexis, of course, looked radiant. She'd sewn herself a new doe-skin dress, the leather tanned and finished to a nice, supple shine. The hem ended just above her knees, the sleeves a little more than shoulder-length, and the entire garment designed to accommodate both her slowly swelling belly and the nursing baby that would follow. She'd braided her sandy hair, which hung down her back. Her feet were bare, her only other adornment the velociraptor claw she'd cut from her very first kill, hung perfectly just above the cleavage between her breasts, and the brilliant smile on her face.

Robert smiled, at least as much at the claw as in general. Since the day she'd cleaned it, treated the sinew cord she'd personally cut from the same animal, and bound it all together, he didn't remember ever having seen her take it off. He privately wondered if she'd even wear it to the bedchamber later that evening.

Everyone stood as Grant and Alexis slowly processed down the aisle, finally coming to a stop a few paces in front of Robert. She locked eyes with Sven and her smile broadened. She was practically vibrating.

Robert waited for the violinist to reach a resolution, then motioned for everyone to be seated again. “Dearly beloved,” he said, “we are gathered together today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Who gives this woman to be united to this man?”

“Her godmother and I do,” said Grant, his voice carrying strongly.

Richards, dressed in much the same way as Grant, stepped forward and took Alexis' hands in his own. “Wow,” he said quietly, “you look gorgeous!”

Alexis giggled softly.

“If anyone knows a reason these two should not be wed one to the other, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

There was silence, which wasn't surprising. Robert didn't know a single person in the Tribe who didn't think Richards and Alexis made a perfect couple. He nodded to Richards. Hopefully, the groom noticed, though Robert certainly wouldn't have blamed him for being unable to pry his eyes off his bride.

“This day I, Sven, take you, Alexis, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to be the object of my life, my love, and earthy worship, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others.”

Richards presented a ring and slipped it onto Alexis' left ring finger. “With this ring, I thee wed. With my worldly goods I thee endow. With my body I thee worship. From this day forward, I promise to love you with everything I have. I may not always feel love, but I will always choose love. All this I swear until the sky falls, death takes me, or the world end.”

“And this day I, Alexis, take you, Sven, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to be the object of my life, my love, and earthy worship, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others.”

She also presented a ring and slipped it onto Richards' left ring finger. “With this ring, I thee wed. With my worldly goods I thee endow. With my body I thee worship. From this day forward, I promise to love you with everything I have. I may not always feel love, but I will always choose love. All this I swear until the sky falls, death takes me, or the world end.”

Robert said, “Then what the Divine joins together, let none ever separate. Let all gathered here today witness this union.”

“Witness!” called a man.

“Witness!” replied everyone else in one voice.

“Then by your own volition, and by the unanimous consensus of the Dragon-slayer Tribe, I now proclaim you to be husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Sven placed one hand on Alexis' hip and gently tipped her jaw upward with a finger. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just as gently pulled him down. Their lips met and stayed that way as everyone cheered. Robert thought they might have slipped each other some tongue and really, he'd have been disappointed if they hadn't.

* * *

Alexis Richards sat in the darkness with her husband. Or, rather, she sat on him. “So, Mister Richards,” she teased, “now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?”

Sven chuckled. “I don't know, Missus Richards. What am I going to do with you?”

She leaned toward him until her face was inches from his, her raptor-claw pendant briefly catching on his chest hair. “I can think of something,” she said breathily.

“Mmmm,” said Sven. Alexis giggled.

She felt a slight, albeit brief, pang wash through her mind. It was the same one she'd been having for weeks. All her life, and especially over the couple of years leading up to puberty, she'd been told that a woman's wedding night was meant to be a very special experience for both her and her husband. She'd long known what that meant, at least in theory.

She hadn't quite realized, when they'd first lain together in the sunset some months before, how that would change things later. She'd eventually decided that their first time would always be memorable, a very special moment for them, even if it hadn't happened on their wedding night.

She still remembered it like it had been yesterday. A lot of it was impossible to describe, though she'd spent a good deal of time searching for the words.

It was all on a continuum anyway, wasn't it? The ceremony a few hours before had really just confirmed what everyone knew already, that Alexis and Sven were joined together in heart and soul for life. Someday, maybe she'd stop worrying about the details.

Alexis kissed her husband. He kissed her back. The kisses were tender at first, then intensified until both of them were breathless. She melted into him as he caressed her body with hands and lips, losing herself as he made love to her. She let him roll her onto her back and drank deeply of his kisses and caresses as they worshiped each other's bodies with their own.

When she couldn't stand it anymore, she wordlessly rolled him again onto his back, positioned his hips between her thighs, and lowered herself onto him. She let out a slight moan as he slowly slid into her. Once she'd settled, she sighed contentedly.

What followed was even better than she'd remembered and almost like their first time all over again. Even then, he'd treated her like a queen, more concerned with her pleasure than with his own. As they culminated their bodily worship, she felt herself come several times before they climaxed together in a surge of mutual ecstasy. Alexis squealed.

A little while later, they lay there in each other's arms, listening to the lingering sounds of the night's celebration. A pair of drums still pounded out a rhythm across the meadow. Someone else let out a shriek of delight as that person and their partner pounded out another kind of rhythm somewhere else.

Alexis sighed contentedly. “Wow,” she said. “Thank you for that. It was wonderful.”

“Well...you're welcome, then. Thank you for letting me do that to you.”

Alexis moved Sven's hand to her abdomen. “And this?”

He gently stroked the little hairs on her belly. It tickled. “Is that how you think about it? As something I did _to_ you?”

“Well...” Her voice trailed off.

“Because I like to think of it as something I did _with_ you.”

Alexis sighed again. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.”

“So now what?”

“Well...” Sven shrugged in the dark. “I suppose same as yesterday. Except with different sleeping arrangements.”

Alexis thumped her husband on the chest.

“What?” he asked.

“I meant after our honeymoon,” she said flatly.

“So did I.” He paused. “Yeah, I suppose I should have been a little more specific.”

“I was just teasing. Well, mostly. Funny how some things have taken on a different meaning.”

“Such as?”

“A honeymoon. I used to dream of being flown off to Europe for a month. Paris, London, Rome, that sort of thing. Not that I really thought much about anything beyond WHERE I wanted to go. I mean, I was ten when I started thinking about that!”

Sven chuckled. “So, no daydreaming about skinny-dipping with your husband on the Riviera?”

Alexis laughed. “I don't even remember if I knew what skinny-dipping _was_ at that age. And let's not start with my total ignorance about sex.”

“Pure and innocent as the driven snow, eh?”

“Oh, Lordy, yes. Something tells me our children won't grow up remotely that sheltered.”

“You think we'll have more than the one?”

Alexis shrugged. “Probably. We'll see how this one goes.”

“And you think we'll keep living like this?” Sven made an encompassing gesture in the darkness.

“I have absolutely no idea. Call me crazy, but it somehow seems more real than my old life was.”

“Okay, you're crazy,” he teased.

Alexis thwapped him on the chest. “I'm serious. I mean, life for a twelve-year-old rich girl wasn't that complicated. Not in California, or anywhere else, I'm pretty sure. Not before the Flare, anyway. It was all movies and shopping and all that vapid stuff. It all seemed so important at the time. But when you really think about it, it was all illusory, for all that you could pick up a designer shoe or a pair of earrings.

“But this? This is real. This is solid. This means something. Don't get me wrong, I like feeling all feminine as much as the next girl. It's just that it's been...redefined, I guess.”

“Like your wedding dress?”

“Exactly. I mean, for all that we all...and by that I mean you, me, Dad, Robert, and everyone else...looked like we stepped out of 'Conan the Barbarian.' I guess part of the point is that this life of ours has taught us what really matters. And even when we do get back to turn-of-the-century technology, I'm not entirely sure I want to go back to that life. This one's hard and it's a lot of work and I never would have chosen it, but it's grown on me and I've grown into it.”

“I really like that dress, by the way.”

“Why, thank you. Although I'm pretty sure you've already given me that compliment.”

“True. But what I didn't say was that when you walked up to me during the ceremony, I wanted to take you right then and there.”

“In my dress?”

“Yeah.”

Alexis giggled.

“What's so funny.”

“You men really do have two modes.”

“On and off?”

“On and onner.”

Sven snickered. “Is that a word?”

“Well, no. But you do still want me, right?”

“Do I ever not want you?”

“Not so far. But for sake of discussion...and just for discussion, mind you...how would you like it if I put my dress back on?”

Sven smiled. “I'd like that very much.”

“How much?”

“I thought this was just for sake of discussion, Missus Richards.”

“Now, that depends on the mode of discussion, doesn't it, Mister Richards?”

Alexis stood up, stepped over, and picked up her dress. Sven made an inquisitive noise. Alexis just smiled in the darkness as she put her dress back on. She'd designed it, the skirts in particular, for a full range of motion. And she did mean a _full_ range of motion.

“Well now,” she said once she'd finished, “now what?”

Sven stood up and took her into his arms. She could feel his manhood pressing against her belly as he held her tightly against his bare body. He kissed her and she returned it measure for measure, their tongues wrestling with each other. He cupped and fondled her leather-clad breasts in the darkness. It excited her even more.

Alexis shifted her weight to one leg and wrapped the other around Sven, stroking his leg with her own. Slowly, she pushed him back down onto his back, and slid him back inside herself. She felt him squeeze her buttocks as she rode him. He slid one hand across her back, along her side, and up to a breast.

Then he flipped her over. Supporting himself with one hand, and lifting her at the small of the back with the other, he surged into her over and over. Her breathing quickened with each thrust. She thought he came first that time, but he kept going for a couple more minutes until she bucked up against him and squealed as before. Then they collapsed, breathing heavily.

“Whew!” she said after he'd rolled off of her.

“No kidding,” he replied. “You think we're getting better at that?”

“I think further data is required.”

“Me, too.”

“Of course you do. You're a man.”

“I think you might be wearing me out, though.”

“Poor you.” She paused, then got to her knees and took her dress off again. She'd so enjoyed letting him take it off her the first time. Had she known he had that much of a thing about it, maybe she'd have left it on in the first place. On the other hand, that first time had been so sweet and tender and she certainly wouldn't have wanted to have missed out on it. But they did have their whole lives ahead of them.

“So,” she said, “I guess to answer my own question, I suppose we keep on doing what we've been doing. I mean, every relationship's on a continuum, right?”

Sven rolled onto his side, then leaned over and kissed his wife. “I love you.”

She kissed him back. “I love you, too.”

“So,” he added, “I guess the question on everyone's mind is, 'How long will it be before those two start having kids?'”

Alexis ruffled Sven's hair and laughed. “You goofball.” She tugged on her chin in mock concentration. “Now, let's see...I think I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say...about five months.”

Sven laughed. “Now,” he said, “how's that song go? A little less talk and a lot more action?”

“You're such a man.”

“And you're all woman.”

She moved her legs apart. “Well, then?”

Sven took the not-so-subtle hint and rolled on top of Alexis, then poised himself just outside of her. “May I?” he asked.

“I thought spreading my legs was your invitation. Should I have it engraved, too?” she teased.

“I'm trying to avoid over-assuming.”

“Probably wise.”

“And good communication is important.”

“So it is.” She leaned up and kissed him. “And the answer to your question is, please do.”

She felt him enter her, then pause partway.

“Are you sure this won't hurt the baby?”

“For the last time, silly,” she said, “it's fine. Now...” She grabbed his buttocks. “...get in here!” She pulled, feeling him slide the rest of the way into her. “Oh, that feels so good.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“And to answer another previous question, your job, sir, is to make sure I wake up sore in the morning.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. Sore, but extremely smug. You're going to give me everything you have and you're going to give it to me over and over until neither of us can stand it anymore.”

“The pleasure, wife, will be all mine.”

She thumped him on the chest. “It had better not be,” she said with feigned indignation. “Now make sweet, tender, passionate love to me, you silly man!”

“Yes, ma'am!”

* * *

Alexis awoke to a bright sunrise. Actually, it seemed much brighter than it should have been. She sat bolt upright, then poked her head out of the tent. Sure enough, the sun had risen several diameters above the horizon. She'd overslept! Mom and Dad were going to kill her! When was the last time she'd done that, anyway?

Her foot bumped something and she craned her neck around. A smile spread across her face as it all came back to her and she laughed. She plopped down next to her new husband.

Sven opened his eyes and made an inquisitive noise. “Honey? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Never better. I was just having a panic attack.”

“About what?”

“I thought I'd slept in. Which I did. It's just that it took me a few moments to remember that this isn't just any morning.” She leaned closer. “It's the first day of my honeymoon. And we, sir, are supposed to enjoy ourselves for a few days.”

He smiled. “I think I can get behind that.”

Alexis cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” She thought for a moment, then rolled up onto her hands and knees. She wiggled her buttocks in the air.

Sven cocked an eyebrow in return.

“Well, you said 'behind it.'”

“Uh...”

“Well? Should I wrap it in leather for you?”

“Hmm...not necessary, but I'll keep that in mind.”

Sven rolled over, then scooted over behind his wife. “I...I've never done it this way.”

Alexis shrugged. “Neither have I. That's the point, isn't it?”

She let him nudge her legs apart and she felt his firmness between her buttocks. “Does that thing ever go soft?”

“Hasn't since yesterday.”

“Then apparently I've been too easy on you.” She wiggled again. She felt him push into her. “No,” she said quickly, “not there.”

“But...”

“A little further forward?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, just be...in.”

He repositioned. “Here?”

“Mmmm. Yes.” She felt him push into her. “Oh!” she gasped.

“Hmm?”

“That feels different.”

“Different...”

“Shut up and do me.”

He started moving, then reached around to fondle a breast. He felt so good! “Oh, just like that,” she breathed. Then after a couple more minutes, “Don't you dare stop!” A couple of minutes later, she shuddered, shrieked, then let her head fall forward slightly.

“May I...?”

“Do it,” she breathed. She felt his body stiffen as he squeezed her breast hard. Then he bent down, breathing heavily against her back.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she replied.

He retreated and she collapsed. He collapsed next to her. “I think,” she said, “this qualifies as 'with my body I thee worship.'”

“I'm glad we agree.”

Alexis felt her stomach gurgle.

“I heard that,” said Sven. “You think maybe we should go get breakfast at some point?”

“At some point.”

“The baby needs nutrition,” Sven pointed.

Alexis smiled. “You really do love our baby, don't you?”

“Very much.”

She sighed, then wiggled against him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

He kissed her. “That makes me happy in return.”

“Good. Remember that when I'm in labor and screaming bloody murder at everyone and everything.”

Sven laughed.

“You think I'm joking?”

“Not really. Now, let's go eat something.”

Alexis stood up. “Oof!” Her legs buckled and she fell back to the ground.

“Alexis! Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. Just...wasn't expecting that. You...wore me out last night.”

“I seem to remember you asking me to do just that. Demanding it, actually.”

“I didn't hear you complaining.”

“My gorgeous, sexy, pregnant bride asks me to make love to her over and over and over until neither of us can see straight. Why would I complain about that?”

“You're such a man. Now help me up, would you?”

Sven rose to his feet, a bit shakily it seemed, and held out a hand.

“Are you sure you're okay, too?” she asked him.

“You wore me out, too. Maybe not as much, but still.” He took her hand and pulled her up. They leaned against each other for a few moments. “Sore and smug enough?”

“For now. I'm not used to using my muscles in quite that way.”

“Then I think more practice is in order.”

Alexis giggled. “Okay. Clothing first. Food second. Enduring everyone's well-wishing, shall we say, third. Then more body-worshiping.”

“I already love being married to you.”

“Likewise.” She winked at him.

* * *

“Well,” said Tim, “I guess it's just human males.”

Everyone had been snickering for the past five minutes at least. Even though what they all suddenly recognized as a parasaur courtship ritual had been going on for at least an hour. Alexis was laughing hysterically. Somehow, only she seemed to appreciate the humor in being the only human of either gender Sundancer ever allowed to touch, let alone ride her.

Alexis was ever so glad her dinosaur hadn't extended her apparent dislike of human males to interfering with Sven's amorous advances. That would have been totally uncool having a dinosaur keep her from making love to her own husband.

The two paras almost looked like a pair of rutting cows. But the whole effect somehow managed to be quite comical and no one really could quite say why. Maybe it was the tails. Or the intermittent grunting noises. Or the loud trumpeting each made when they were done. It was, however, the funniest thing any of them had ever seen.


	9. Chapter 9

Robert Muldoon exhaled deeply. He'd half expected the tang of burned wood to sting in his nostrils. The blackened wreckage still looked so fresh. But that was the thing about it. Charred wood tended to stand the elements so remarkably well, it was bloody impossible to tell just how long ago all the houses roundabout had burned.

He shoved the butt of a spear through what little rubble remained of the Murphy home. The cinders grated against each other, then fell back to the ground with a dull clunk. Ash and soot still clung to the bones beneath the boards.

“Tim?” said Robert. “Did you have a cat?”

“Yeah,” said the boy weakly.

Robert nodded toward the bones.

Murphy stepped gingerly over, then gasped lightly. “Boots?”

“I'm sorry, lad. Hopefully, he died of smoke inhalation first. Because...” He didn't feel the need to complete the thought aloud. Being burned alive was probably the worst possible way to die, in his opinion.

“And Mom?” Richards nee Murphy asked from the driveway a couple dozen paces away. It had been a good long while since she'd used the word to refer to her birth mother. But the context made it clear.

Robert sighed, then looked over his shoulder. “That's the good news. Maybe the only good news, actually. No human remains. No remains of much of anything, though. Your mother made it out before this place went up, if she was even here at all when it happened.”

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” asked Grant from the other side of the wreckage.

Richards whimpered slightly, then squeezed her husband's hand. She closed her eyes and began muttering something under her breath. It was probably one of the mantras they'd developed over the years. Or a prayer.

“Well,” said Murphy, “there was this place north of Soquel Cove.”

“It's at the northern end of Monterrey Bay,” his sister added. “We used to go there for vacation every summer.”

“Sometimes,” said Murphy, “we'd talk about going up there and hiding out if The Big One hit. It was half a joke, I think.”

Robert rested his spear against his shoulder and rubbed his chin pensively. “What do you think, Alan? It's the best lead we have now.”

Grant looked off toward the hills between Palo Alto and the coast, over the widespread ruins. After a moment, he looked back, though more at Murphy and Richards. “Lead us to it,” he said.

* * *

Alan Grant rode point along what Alexis had identified as Aptos Creek Fire Road. All the road signs had been removed, but she and Tim knew the area. They'd left Hwy. 1 in the middle of the small town of Aptos a couple of hours before. They'd broken the previous night's camp at what had once been the Seascape Golf Club, but had since become just another area of overgrown meadow in the midst of so much urban ruin.

Alexis Richards rode on his left and just slightly behind him. Alan still wasn't keen on her occupying such a dangerous position, especially being so near to term. But she was the best archer in the Tribe and she remembered the territory a little better than Tim, so Alan tolerated it.

Tim rode Loki, to Alan's right and even further back. Like everyone else of able body, all of them rode with arrows to the strings of their longbows, Tim holding two extra shafts in his bow hand, Alexis six. She seemed tense—well, more so than the rest of them.

Nearly a mile back, they'd passed a small, unidentified building that Alan recognized as a standard park entrance station, though all the signage to it had been taken down. Alexis and Tim had identified it as The Forest of Nisene Marks State Park. Based on what they'd seen during their trek down the northern California coast, the state government was still fragmented, to say nothing of a State Park system.

The hard-packed gravel ground under horses hooves and the thumping of llama and dinosaur feet. The ferns on either side of the road helped swallow the sounds of all those scores of feet. The redwood, tanoak, big-leaf maple, and madrone foliage blocked out the midday sun.

Alan glanced in his goddaughter's direction, trying not to stare at her almost nine-month baby bulge. He knew in his head that she wasn't the daughter of his loins. But she was still his daughter in his heart. And he still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about her being pregnant. Which was weird because he had no trouble at all with his own wife being pregnant.

Besides, Alexis and Sven had married with the due ceremony that had evolved within the Tribe. And, well, he had to admit that they hadn't exactly been discreet about their amorous encounters, especially during and since their honeymoon. In fact, it had been all but impossible for them to keep their hands and lips off of each other. All the same, he was genuinely happy for them. Everyone was, really.

Alan began to slow his horse ahead of a large round of wood someone had set right in the middle of the road perhaps twenty yards away and adjacent to what Alexis and Tim had identified as George's Picnic Area, though the signs to that had been removed as well. Aptos Creek ran through a gulch to their left. He'd been keeping an eye on that. It hadn't been the first time he and his had been forced to maneuver a herd of mammals and dinosaurs along roads barely wide enough for two lanes. But turning around, if and when they were bound to do so, was going to be a first-rate pain in the rear.

Without warning, a crossbow bolt whistled down out of a nearby redwood, directly into the center of the round. It stood there at an angle, vibrating menacingly for a few moments.

Alan brought his horse to a halt and the rest of the column ground to a stop behind him.

“Halt!” said a female voice from the trees. “That's far enough!”

Two dozen men and women burst from the trees on both sides of the road on the far side of the round. They took up positions, bows, crossbows, and flintlock rifles at the ready.

“We're not looking for trouble,” Alan replied.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Just passing through.”

A woman strode out and pointed a flintlock pistol at Alan. She looked strangely familiar. But from where?

“Oh, is that so?” said the woman.

“It is.”

“No one just passes through.” There was certainly an edge to that voice. “Now let's try this again,” she said sternly. “Who are you and what a...”

“Mom?” said Alexis.

The woman jerked slightly, then blinked at Alexis. “L...lex?”

“Mom?!”

“Lex, honey, is that you?” The woman faltered, lowering her pistol.

“ _MOM!_ ” Alexis shrieked. She gave Sundancer the command to kneel, sliding down the animal's neck before Ellie could advise otherwise, and nearly toppled over doing it.

Tim vaulted from Loki's back, sprinted over, and caught his sister.

“Stand down!” the woman called, easing the hammer back to the rest position and shoving the pistol back into her belt.

“But Greifynya...” said a man.

“You heard me, man, stand down!” she growled.

“At ease!” Alan ordered his own people.

The Murphy children rushed to their mother. She caught them in a full embrace, tears running down their cheeks and smiles on all three of their faces. They kissed each other and their mother stroked their hair.

“We missed you so much!” said Tim. Alexis echoed that.

“I thought you were dead,” said their mother through her tears.

“Us, too,” said Tim. That wasn't much of an understatement, considering all they'd endured.

“Let me look at you,” she said. “Oh, you're both so grown up!” Then she noticed Alexis' baby bulge and gasped. “Lex! You're...”

Alexis nodded. “Yup.” She looked around. “Sven?” Her husband trotted over. “Mom, this is my husband Sven.”

“Oh!”

“Sven, this is my mom Darielle.”

Sven extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Missus Murphy...or is it Hammond?”

Darielle shook Sven's hand firmly. “Thank-you. And it's Garrison now, actually.”

“And I haven't gone by Lex since, like, six months after the Flare,” said Alexis.

Alan and Ellie dismounted themselves and walked over to Darielle.

“I thought you looked a little familiar,” said Alan. At Darielle's raised eyebrow, he added, “Family resemblance.” He extended his hand. “Alan Grant. This is my wife Ellie. Your children have told us an awful lot about you.”

“Only the good things, we promise,” said Tim.

Darielle regarded Alan suspiciously. “You'll have to forgive me, Mister and Missus Grant, if...” Her eyes widened as she noticed the dinosaurs. “Oh, dear gods, what the hell are those?!”

“Mom,” said Tim, “it's okay. They won't hurt you.”

“Well,” added Alexis, “mostly.”

“What?” said Darielle.

“Just...Sundancer won't let anything male that's not another parasaur near her. And she's not terribly fond of humans other than me.”

“And Loki,” said Tim, “is a bit schitzoid. And he's a biter.”

“Actually,” said Alan, “all the dinosaurs are a bit temperamental.”

“D...dinosaurs?” said Darielle. “You mean that thing Dad was doing? It actually worked?”

“Cool, huh?” said Tim. Then he added, “Well, mostly. When they're not trying to eat you.”

“E...eat you?”

“Not these ones,” said Alexis. She lifted the claw hanging from her neck. “Velociraptor. This is from my first kill.”

Darielle's eyebrow shot up.

“It's been...well, the last few years have been kind of interesting.”

Darielle looked down at her daughter's baby bulge. “I can see that.”

Alexis laughed. “Oh, but that's the fun part!” she gushed.

Darielle looked from her daughter to Tim to Alan to Ellie, then back to Alexis. “You're not...in a cult or anything...are you?”

“Mom! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

Darielle exhaled heavily. “No offense, but the last time I saw you two, you were nine and twelve. Then all hell breaks loose and almost five years later, you show up here among several score strangers, with dinosaurs, and you're pregnant.”

She looked at Tim. “Please don't tell me you've fathered a child.”

Tim cringed. “No, no, no. Not yet, anyway.” At his mother's look, he continued. “Look, my balls just dropped year before last. It's not that I don't want to have sex with Ysabel because I do. But she's not ready and I love her too much to push it and...”

“Tim?” Alan interrupted. “Isn't that a bit TMI?”

“She asked.”

“Not that much.”

Tim looked back at his mother. “Sorry. I...got a bit carried away. I'd blame that on testosterone poisoning, but...no, that one's on me. Let me back up. No, Mom, I'm still a virgin, though I'd kind of like to be a father someday, but give me a few years to grow up first. Is that better?”

Darielle nodded. “And you're really...this isn't Stockholm syndrome?”

Alexis exhaled. “No, Mom. It's nothing like that. The Grants were consultants Grandpa hired to look at his dinosaur park.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye, it is,” said Robert. “Bloody mess, it was.”

“Mister Muldoon, is it?”

Robert stepped up and extended a hand. “Darielle...Garrison, did I hear?”

Darielle shook Robert's hand. “Yeah, that's right. And you'll vouch for them, I take it?”

“Completely and without reservation.”

“I guess I'll either have to either continue to believe a bunch of complete strangers are conspiring to brainwash my children, or take it all at face value.”  
“It's face value, Mom,” said Alexis. She told an abbreviated story about what had happened on Isla Nublar, then the helicopter crash, and how John had essentially made him and Ellie his grandchildren's godparents. “The rest...that's kind of a long story.”

Darielle blinked. She exhaled heavily, then shook Alan's hand, then Ellie's. “I suppose I have you to thank for keeping my babies safe, then?”

“Well,” said Alan, “I think 'safe' is relative, but...yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“I can't thank you enough. If there's anything I can do, if it's within my power...”

“No,” said Ellie, “no need to thank us. They're wonderful children. They really are. Well, Alexis is an adult, but...you know. But we couldn't be more proud of them if they were our own flesh and blood.”

“It's been our privilege,” said Alan. “It really has. They're as much a part of our family as our own children.”

Darielle turned back to Alexis. “So...um...wow! You're...having a baby!”

Alexis shrugged. “Yeah...kind of started early, I guess.”

“So, when are you due?”

Alexis grunted as though she'd been punched in the gut. Then something liquid splashed onto the ground beneath her feet. She looked abruptly down, then back at her mother and grimaced. “Um...right about now?”

“Right!” said Ellie. “Now, remember all we...” She broke off with a gasp. A similar amount of liquid splashed onto the ground beneath her. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me.”

Alexis' eyes widened. “No! Mo...Ellie, you can't be having your baby at the same time as me!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I'm afraid it's not up to me anymore.”

Alan turned his head. “Robert! Maria! Ysabel! Tim! Sven! Front and center! Everyone else, you know the drill!”

“If you want,” said Darielle, “you can all pull in there.” She gestured widely to a large parking area off to her left on the eastern side of the road away from the creek. Beyond it stood a small building and dozens of picnic tables scattered beneath the trees.

Robert whistled loudly. “Right! Everyone, form up over there!” He pointed toward the picnic area.

Tim and Robert dashed off toward one of the pack animals. Another girl and her mother pulled a bundle from a llama, shoved two rolls of cloth at the men, then began to unpack the rest of it. Everyone else guided their animals into the parking lot, some further into the picnic area. They dismounted, hobbled the animals, set out fodder and water, then went about taking up defensive perimeters and so forth.

Robert trotted back with a rolled blanket over one shoulder. “Let's get these two somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we?” said Robert to Darielle.

Darielle nodded and pointed off to her left. Those involved in the birthing followed, Darielle's people hovering nervously nearby.

Alexis shot a worried look at Ellie. Ellie took her hand and nodded. Both expectant mothers crouched down slightly in the conifer duff while Tim and Robert unrolled a pair of large, battered bath towels salvaged from an abandoned home decorating store. Then they stripped off their shirts.

“Shouldn't they be laying down?” Darielle asked.

Ellie grunted through a contraction. “No,” she said, catching her breath. “It works better this way.”

“But...”

“Ellie's had two children,” said Robert. “Several others have been born to other women in the Tribe over the last few years. I've seen it done this way in a lot of other places, too. It's better for both mother and baby and the delivery goes more smoothly.”

“I'm...” Alexis began. A contraction cut her off.

Ellie squeezed her hand. “You'll be fine,” she said. “We're all right here.”

“Missus Garrison,” said Robert, “would you be so kind as to spot your daughter from behind?”

“Of course.” She stepped around behind Alexis and stroked her hair. Someone handed her a damp cloth and she dabbed it on the younger woman's forehead.

Sven took Alexis' other hand.

“See?” said Ellie. “We're all here. No one's going anywhere.”

Another pair of women handed Ellie and Alexis tumblers full of the herbal concoction they'd developed to help with birthing. Both mothers waited for a contraction to pass before taking a drink. Ellie gulped the entire pint of hers down in one breath.

Alexis took a sip and grimaced. “This is gross.”

“I know,” said Ellie. “Drink it anyway.”

Alexis did, gasping for breath once she had. Her next contraction lost her grip on the cup. Tim caught it awkwardly.

A dozen rapid footsteps floated from the direction of the Steel Bridge over Aptos Creek. Alan glanced up as several armed people emerged into view. They held a short, low conversation with a pair of the same guards that had met the Dragon-slayers shortly before. Both gestured broadly in Alan's direction.

One of them trotted over with muzzle-loader in-hand. “Greifynya?” he said. “Is it true? They came home?”

Darielle nodded vigorously. “Yes. If you would be so kind...” She paused as Alexis and Ellie yelled through another contraction. “...please spread the word.”

The man nodded curtly. “Do you want me to mention...” He gestured at Alexis.

“Please do.”

He nodded again, then spun and trotted off.

After that, everything merged into a stream of heavy breathing, grunts, and yells-verging-on-screams. He barely noticed the scent of smoldering wood that Maria had lit in a nearby raised fire-pit to boil water.

There'd been a time when Alan had needed the clock to tell him how much time had passed. It tended to get away from him out on his dig sites, not to mention those times he'd been deep into research. He would have thought the recent years of an event-oriented way of life would have completely obliterated any remaining notion of minutes and hours.

When he and his hungered, they ate. When they tired, they rested. When the sun hung so many diameters above the horizon, it was time to make camp. They went to bed before it was too dark to see and rose when it was light enough the next morning.

Despite all that, it had surprised him how much better he could track time than before. There were so many other ways to mark it. The inexorable march of the sun. The circadian rhythms of the wildlife. The gathering of storms and the changing of the weather. Even one's own heartbeat. Few of those things were particularly precise, yet all seemed so much more real than the progression of hands around a clock's face.

So it was that when Alan looked up, sure enough, the sun had progressed a little over halfway toward the western horizon. Which meant roughly four hours.

“I...I can't,” Alexis gasped.

“Sure you can,” Ellie panted. “We're doing this together, remember?”

“It...it hurts,” the younger woman moaned.

“I know it does, honey,” said her mother.

“No, it really _HURTS!_ ” The last word merged into another yell as a contraction surged through her.

“Tim?” said Robert. “Can you see if anything's amiss? As in, out of the ordinary?”

Tim blinked at Robert. “What? I've never seen my sister's vagina! How would I know?”

“Just get down there and look,” the Brit said curtly.

“Okay, okay,” said Tim. He dropped to his back and rolled to place his head between Alexis' legs. “What am I looking for?”

“Really?”

“Okay, fine, I've seen vaginas before. So sue me. Just not hers.”

“Look, lad, I'd get slapped silly if I were to tell that they're all the same. But for our purposes, you've seen it before.”

“What?!” Darielle exclaimed.

Ellie and Alexis both yelled through another set of contractions.

“He helped with my son and daughter,” Ellie said between breaths.

“So,” said Tim, “I'm looking for bleeding in places that shouldn't be?”

“Exactly.”

After a few moments, “Uh...well, it's kind of hard to see, but, no, I don't see any blood. Lots of hair, though.”

“It's supposed to have hair, you ninny!” Alexis snarled.

“Geez, don't bite my head off,” said Tim, more evenly than Alan might have expected. “I mean...more than it should.”

“How would you know, young man?” Darielle asked.

“Um...” Tim havered.

“We can talk about that later,” said Alan.

“Let me have a look,” said Robert as he shifted over to look under Alexis' skirt. “Ah...beautiful!”

“How dare you!” said Darielle.

Robert ignored her. He pointed. “Tim, lad, you do too recognize that. See the different hair colors?”

“Oh...right.”

“Yeh, you're crowning nicely, lass.”

“See?” said Ellie. “You're getting there!” She squeezed Alexis' hand.

Alexis smiled weakly, then whimpered a little. Another contraction washed over her. Ellie's next came right on top of it.

Robert rolled back under Ellie. “You too, Ellie.”

Ellie grinned at Alan.

A few more contractions later, Alexis hung her head. “I...I...I can't,” she panted. “It's too much. It's too hard. I can't.”

“Yes, you can, dear,” said Sven.

“You can do it, honey,” said Darielle.

“You're almost there,” said Tim from the ground.

“Go for it, sweetheart!” said Ellie.

“No...no...I...”

In a single move, Tim spun around and bounced up to his feet. He grabbed his sister's head in both hands. “Bullshit!” he yelled. Everyone jumped. “You are Alexis Richards, Dragon-slayer shield maiden! You single-handedly killed five velociraptors, two dilophosaurs, a carnotaurus, and more compies than I can count, all with bow and blade forged by your own hand! You drenched yourself in their blood! You picked a fight with a six-ton Tyrannosaurus rex and personally yanked its guts out! You literally snatched Ysabel from the jaws of death! You personally saved the lives of at least half the Tribe, including your own husband's! And mine more times than I can count! You do _not_ get to give up, do you hear me?!”

Tim had worked him up into a fever-pitch that would have made any Army drill Sergeant proud.

Alexis started to protest, albeit weakly, but Tim cut her off.

“Not an option, soldier!” he screamed. “Now, you reach down in there, drag it all up, and you give it everything you've got! Do you hear me! I mean everything! _DO IT! DO IT NOW!!!_ ”

Alexis spat several obscenities back at Tim, along with a feral, valkyric bellow that made all of Alan's hairs stand up on end.

“Murphy!” Robert yelled over Alexis' and Ellie's joined shrieks. “Get yer arse down here!”

Tim dropped back to the ground, then thrust his hands upward. “I have a head! Here come the shoulders...and we have a baby!” Moments later, something else hit the ground...or maybe Tim...with a dull splat. “Eew,” Tim added.

“You'll wash, lad,” said Robert. “Got yours, Ellie!”

Ysabel dropped to her knees beside Tim, Maria beside Robert, and both began to work on the infants, clearing mucous plugs and tying off cords.

“And we're done!” gasped Ellie. She and Alexis exchanged strained smiles.

“Can I sit down now?” Alexis panted.

Ellie nodded. The younger woman's legs gave out on her and her mother caught her, lowering her to the ground. Darielle let her daughter lean against her.

“Lex?” said Darielle. “Lex, honey?”

“That sucked,” said Alexis weakly. “And it's Alexis,” she added.

“You did great, dear,” said Sven. He knelt next to her and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ellie sank to the ground, Alan helping her down. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Ellie. She looked over at Alexis. “Whoo! Alexis?”

“Yeah?”

Ellie raised her hand in a fist. Alexis held hers up in like fashion and Ellie bumped it. “You rock!”

Alexis smiled. “Thanks. So do you.” Then, “Tim? I'm sorry I cussed at you. You didn't deserve that.”

“It's okay. I know you didn't mean it.”

“Doesn't matter.”

Tim knelt down in front of his sister. “I forgive you,” he said. 

Darielle looked from Tim to Alexis, then back again. “Alright, you two. Who are you and what have you done with my children?”

Tim cocked his head pensively. Alan could just about see the gears turning behind the boy's eyes.

“Tim?” said Alexis. “What are you...?”

Tim quickly wiped three fingers through the birthing mess still plastered to his chest, then wiped it across Alexis' forehead.

She flinched. “Tim!”

“Gotcha!” he said triumphantly.

“Ah,” said Darielle, “there you are.”

“That's gross,” said Alexis, though she made no effort to wipe it off.

“What?” Tim protested. “Just a few minutes ago, that was inside you. I'm the one with your amniotic fluid and...stuff...all over me.”

Alexis cocked her head and smirked. “Is it better or worse than Tee-rex blood?”

Tim thought for a moment. “I'm not sure.” He paused. “No, actually, this is way better. I got messy helping my sister deliver her baby. Now that I think about it, how cool is that?”

He leaned closer and hugged her. “I love you, sis.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you, too, bro,” she said, then kissed him on the temple.

“You're the coolest sister a guy could ever have. You know that, right?”

Alexis nodded. “And you're the best brother,” she said. “And thanks, by the way. I needed that. Really, I did.”

They hugged each other again. It gave Alan warm fuzzies to see it.

Alexis suddenly sat up, then immediately collapsed with a grunt.

“No, honey,” said her mother, “don't try to do that.”

“My baby?”

Tim turned back toward Ysabel. A moment later, screeches erupted from two sets of infant lungs.

Alexis grinned. “Hey, can someone prop me up against something? My abs are pretty shot. And I'm sure my mom's gonna wanna move at some point.”

“Ellie,” said Robert, “you have a healthy baby boy. Seven and a half pounds, I'd say.” He handed the baby to his mother.

Alan was in love all over again. “Are we still naming him...”

“John Malcolm,” Ellie finished.

“And you,” said Tim, turning around with Alexis' wriggling baby, “have a healthy baby girl. What do you think, Robert?” He let the Brit heft the baby briefly.

“Phew! Right around nine pounds, I'd think.”

“Whoa!” said Sven. “You squeezed out a nine-pound baby!”

“Yeah,” said Ellie. “That's impressive!”

“It was a team effort. Good work, guys!” She exchanged fist-bumps with everyone.

Tim handed his niece to her mother. “So what's her name?”

“Ariana Clarice,” said Alexis.

“Oh, honey,” said Darielle, “she's beautiful!”

“May I see?” said Ellie.

Alexis tilted her baby up.

“Oh, she's gorgeous! Look at those eyes! And Alexis? You go, girl!”

Alexis grinned. “That still sucked, though.”

Ellie chuckled lightly. “Yeah. Yeah it did. You did better than I did with my first. A lot better.”

Tim snorted laughter. “No kidding. Who knew one person could swear in so many languages at once?”

“Tim!” said a chorus of voices.

Ysabel thumped him on the arm.

“Sorry?” he said.

“He right, though,” said Ellie. “I didn't handle it well at all.” She looked at Alexis. “At least you're young and flexible.”

“Yeah she is,” said Sven.

That brought some snorts and chuckles.

“What?” he said. “We're married!” Then, “Oh...right.”

“Sven,” said Alexis, “you're impossible.”

He shrugged. “That's why you love me.”

“I guess.” They kissed. They really were an adorable couple. “So,” said Alexis, “walk me through that breast-feeding thing again, would you?”

Ellie did. Alexis grimaced as Ariana sucked on a nipple. After several minutes, she relaxed, gazing lovingly at her newborn daughter. “Ya know,” she said, “this is kinda cool. Weird, though. And...I'm really a mother!”

Ellie chuckled. “Yup. And you'll be a great mom, too.”

Alexis grinned. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn't have done it without you. Really, I couldn't have. I love you all.”

Alan was beginning to think that if his fuzzies grew any warmer, they might just turn into a mold colony.

* * *

Robert Muldoon cocked an eyebrow. “Alan? You're going to make us all dizzy. Or seasick. Or both.”

Grant paused in his pacing. “How long...”

“It'll take as long as it takes,” said Sattler-Grant flatly.

Robert glanced at Murphy and Richards. Richards sat on a folding wooden chair, nursing Ariana. Murphy worked a hunting blade with a whetstone. Both wore strained expressions.

They'd set up camp the evening before in George's Picnic Area. First thing that morning, Grant had gone to make his case before what Garrison had called the Althing. He'd returned some time later to report that the Assembly was to deliberate and they'd send word later that day.

So everyone had kept busy at the usual things they all did while in camp. Which meant mending older clothing, working on newer clothing and shoes, checking and rechecking weapons and armor, tending to the animals, minding the children, playing music, pursuing hobbies they'd picked up at some point, and just general visiting.

Suddenly, everyone's attention swung in the same direction. A boy a little younger than Tim stopped at the edge of camp.

“Greifynya Garrison requests the immediate presence of your Tribe, down to the last child. I am to escort you.”

At first, no one moved.

“Well,” said Grant, “you heard the man. Fall in!”

Everyone queued up. Richards and Sattler-Grant were both extremely sore from the day before and Richards was having trouble even standing up for any appreciable length of time. So her husband put her sidesaddle on a mule and the whole Tribe trooped across Steel Bridge and then along the Loma Prieta Grade trail.

It wasn't far, a little over a mile. They came around a bend in the trail and into one of many second-growth redwood groves. Robert looked up.

Attached to and suspended from the great red trunks was what could only be described as a tree-city. Rope-and-plank catwalks stretched from trunk to trunk, while others circled one tree or another. Structures that were clearly houses jutted at seemingly impossible angles, sometimes supported with bracing, sometimes sitting atop massive branches, and sometimes wedged between two or more trees.

A chorus of “Whoa!” drifted through the members of the Tribe.

The boy led them up a rope-and-plank stairway that spiraled around one of the bigger trees, across a catwalk, and into a large building. The whole thing swayed a little, creaking slightly. The boy didn't seem to notice. Robert figured he'd grown up there and was used to it.

The building was filled with people, and all turned to look as Grant led the tribe into the room.

Garrison sat at the center on a sort of dais. The man next to her was probably her husband. A series of concentric circles of benches ran all around the room. She motioned to an area off to her right. “Please,” she said, “make yourselves comfortable.”

It took several minutes for everyone to file in and sit down.

Once they'd settled, Darielle stood up and stepped toward them. “Now, lastly, but certainly not least, there's the matter of our visitors,” she said, at least as much to her own people as Grant's.

“As most of you know,” she continued, “I bore two children by my first husband. They were in Costa Rica the day everything went to hell and I feared them dead. A few of you, and you know who you are, helped me through that and you know what effect that had on me. I still can't thank you enough.

“I held out hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd somehow survived. As time passed, that hope gradually slipped away. Most of you never saw the rivers I cried. All my life, I've heard it said, here and there and by various people, that the age of miracles has passed. I'd once believed it. But now I disagree.

“Yesterday, one such miracle occurred.” She made an upward motion to Tim and Alexis. They looked at each other, then rose to their feet. “These are those children, Alexis and Timothy.”

Cheers went up around the room. Darielle waited until they died down before continuing. She motioned for them to sit, then paused while they did. “I love them very much. Alan Grant, from whom you all heard this morning, and his wife Ellie bear most of the responsibility of bringing them safely back to me. There's nothing I can do to repay them for that.”

She turned her attention to the Dragon-slayers. “We've spent the last few hours considering and discussing the case as you presented it to us. And we've reached a consensus. We can't take anyone in.”

“What?!” blurted Richards.

“But, Mom!” Murphy protested.

Garrison ignored her children's outbursts. “We just don't have the resources for that. Which leaves me with quite the conundrum.” She folded her hands behind her back and began to pace slowly back and forth. “I could leave, join Alexis, Tim, and their people and go the gods know where.”

Her husband's face tensed momentarily. “But that would mean abandoning my responsibilities to my family and people here. Which would be both irresponsible and unthinkable.”

Robert thought he heard Richards whimper, though he could have been imagining things.

“Or,” Garrison continued, “I could invite Alexis and Tim to live with me here. But, while I'd like nothing better, it would be patently unfair to the friends and family they've built over the last few years. I cannot, in good conscience, ask them to abandon those people, people who took care of them and came to love them and raise them in my stead.

“Now, those of us present at our chance meeting yesterday took some very good mental notes. While I was, shall we say, a wee bit distracted, there was still plenty of time to watch things other than my daughter enduring childbirth. And during deliberations this morning, we shared that.

“General Grant, you've built a well-oiled machine.”

Grant chuckled nervously. “Well...I think 'General' is a bit...um...pretentious?”

Garrison considered that for a moment, then inclined her head slightly. “Perhaps. The point is, we're all very impressed. You've shown us that you care deeply for each other and moreover, that you would not be a burden on us.

“Therefore, we have decided to invite you to join us.”

Murphy and Richards launched themselves out of their seats. Well, Murphy did, turning to help his sister up. They both body-hugged their mother, which was no mean feat for Alexis, whose baby was still in the way, albeit carried in a sling instead of in her womb.

After a minute, Garrison guided her children back to their seats and continued. “This is provisional, of course. We both have different ways of doing things and I think we can all expect a certain amount of friction as we adapt to each other. We'll hold a separate meeting to hammer out the details. But I can tell you right now that a number of my people have already expressed, in no uncertain terms, that they expect you to fully adopt our ways.

“Although from what I've seen thus far, there seems to be a fair amount of overlap, so it may not turn out to be that big of a deal. And it doesn't mean we can't both learn from one another and I think we can all become stronger because of it.

“Still, there will be change and it's human nature to be resistant to change. Particularly when it comes to integrating areas of responsibility and especially when there's overlap and redundancy. For example, you have your doctor and we have ours. You have your veterinarian and we have ours. You have your cooks and we have ours.

“You rotate various tasks in your way and we do it in ours. We're mostly settled agrarian with a nascent industrial capacity, you're mostly nomadic hunter-gatherer. But I think we can learn from each other. And my personal interest notwithstanding, I'm rather excited about it!

“Now, we still, on the whole, don't know each other from Adam and Eve. So, let's mingle!”

At first, everyone just blinked at everyone else.

“Oh, come on,” said Garrison, rolling her eyes exactly the way Robert had seen Richards do far more times than he could count, “must I threaten you all with those dreaded ice-breaker things they always inflicted on us in high school summer camp and at administrative conferences?”

Chuckles and groans rolled through the room.

“Yeah, you know the ones.”

That seemed to get people moving. Murphy, Mr. and Mrs. Richards, stepped over to Garrison. She introduced them to her own husband and three children, two of whom were clearly old enough to have been the husband's children by his previous wife.

Robert quickly lost track of all the names and just as quickly decided it was going to take a while for all of them to sink in. Which was fine by him.

* * *

Alan knocked on the doorpost of the Garrison residence.

Darielle looked up. “Alan! Ellie! Please, do come in and pull up a floor.”

Darielle and her husband sat more or less in the middle on a low, wooden bench. Alexis and Sven sat to one side of Darielle, Tim and Ysabel on the other. A young girl and another pair of twin girls, maybe eight or nine, sat beside their father.

Alan helped his wife and children to a spare patch of blankets before sitting cross-legged.

“I was just showing Mom my dress,” said Alexis, probably more to Ellie.

“Oh?” said Ellie.

“I really like it,” said Darielle.

“Thanks,” said Alexis. “It was my wedding dress.”

Darielle raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And you...anticipated pregnancy and nursing, then?”

“You...could say that.” She paused. “I...the wedding was five months ago.”

It didn't take Darielle long to do the math. Her other eyebrow joined the first. “Oh, really?”

“I know you tried to teach me to wait. And I'd say I'm sorry, but...” She looked down at little Ariana. “I'm not sure I am. We do what we do and then figure out how to live with it, for good or ill. And, well, I can certainly live with this one.” She smiled, then looked back at her mother. “Are you upset?”

Darielle smiled. “Not really. I conceived Megan out of wedlock, so I don't have any room to talk. Besides, at this point, I don't know if I CAN be angry with you. I'm just so ecstatic you're both home.”

“So, this is your family, I take it?” Alan asked.

“As far as I'm concerned,” said Darielle, “you're family, too.”

“We're touched,” said Ellie.

Darielle's smile broadened. “You returned my children to me. Alive. Not only alive, but in one piece. And moreover, in much better condition than they were when they left. I owe you.”

Alan chuckled nervously. “Well...”

“Oh, don't be modest.”

“We love them,” said Ellie, “as much as we do our own flesh-and-blood.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

Ellie shrugged. “Maybe not. But it happened anyway.” She nodded to the Garrison children. “And you are?”

“This is Megan,” said Darielle. “She's almost two.”

“And the twins? They're his, I take it?”

Darielle nodded. “David's, yes. Camille and Kennerly. Their mother died of cancer the year before the Flare. His brother was my attorney during the divorce. Alexis helped watch the girls while I helped their father deal with all the financial stuff. Death can be really expensive. And complicated. Or it was, anyway.

“I'd pretty much already lost my marriage by then. The two of us commiserated on loss. Then when the Flare happened and I thought I'd lost Tim and Alexis...” She bit her lower lip and forced back some tears. Tim and Alexis leaned a little closer to their mother.

“I'm sorry,” she said, “I thought I'd gotten past all that.”

“No need to apologize.”

Darielle shook her head slowly. “What happened to them, anyway?” she asked. “When I sent them to their grandpa for the weekend, they were constantly at each other's throats. And now they're not. Not just detente either. The very first thing Tim did yesterday was run to help his sister. I mean, sprinted...like his _own_ life depended on it. That...” she sniffed at a tear. “...was beautiful! That's...more than a temporary truce.”

Alan chuckled. “You're not wrong. They were well on their way to driving the rest of us crazy.”

Alexis and Tim giggled, then exchanged fist-bumps.

“But that was mostly before all hell broke loose,” Alan continued. “And I'm not talking about the Flare. There were...other kinds of hell before that. I think it started bringing them together.

“But after the Flare?” Alan exhaled heavily through his nose. “The first few weeks were really rough on all of us. But the more we helped each other and the more we covered each other's backs and so forth, the closer we grew together. And then one morning, we woke up to find we'd become a family. It's one of those things that sneaked up on us and we just suddenly realized it one day.

“As for Tim and Alexis specifically? Well, I think his death had a profound effect on her.”

“Wh...what?!” Darielle nearly shrieked it.

Alan gave a brief account of how Tim had been electrocuted during their flight across Isla Nublar and how Alexis had stood there in horror while Alan had given her brother CPR.

Tim held his hands in front of his mother. The burns had healed, but the scars would be with him for life.

Darielle gasped as her hands flew to her mouth and fresh tears flowed. “Now I _really_ owe you!”

“No, you don't,” Alan insisted. “But at that moment, I think that was when Alexis realized that she does actually love her brother. I could see it all over her face. It took Tim a little longer to realize it himself. It only really sunk in a couple of months later when Alexis poured her heart out about it. Turns out neither of them liked being on each other's nerves all the time. They just misunderstood each other in all sorts of ways. Ever since then, it's been almost entirely good-natured ribbing.

“I never wish hardship on another person on general principle. But it really did those two a lot of good. It pushed them together, forced them to get over certain issues, and toughened them up. It taught them about what's really important. And you know what? Family doesn't have to be related by blood.”

Ellie introduced Samuel, Laura, and little John.

“You know,” said David, extending his hand. “I want to thank you again for bringing Darielle's children back to her. I watched helplessly as year by year, the light faded from her eyes. We both knew why, but after the first year, we stopped talking about it. That spark's back and I have you to thank for it.”

Alan chuckled. “It was a team effort.” David looked about to protest. “No, I mean it. We all looked out for each other. Ellie and I took on parenting duties, sure. But Alexis and Tim saved their own and each other's behinds at least as much as any of the rest of us did. And they saved ours multiple times. And visa-versa.”

Darielle sighed. “I misjudged you all. I don't think you really know what it was like. At first, I didn't know what to think. A mother's imagination can conjure up all sorts of badness than can befall her children. Ellie...and Alexis...you're mothers, I'm sure you can relate.

“After a while, I stopped caring if they came back in one piece. And I mean that literally. I'd have settled for breathing. So when you all showed up and my daughter pregnant...” She exhaled heavily. “...all those daymares came back. Particularly...” She shut her eyes.

“I think,” said Alexis, “she was afraid I'd been repeatedly raped every day for the last four years.”

Darielle nodded.

“And that we'd been brainwashed,” Tim added.

Darielle nodded again.

Alan shrugged. “Like I said, what you see is what you get. It's all at face-value.

“I like your solution, by the way. We'd have been content to live on some adjacent land. Or maybe work the coastal forests and beaches, dropping by for a visit now and then, that sort of thing. Ellie and I weren't at all happy with the idea of leaving Tim and Alexis. Sam screamed bloody murder when we tried to explain what could happen. He's...quite attached to them.”

“How does he perceive my children, if I might ask?”

“Well...we're not sure. As near as we can tell, it's part aunt-and-uncle, part sibling. He does love them dearly, though. And all three of them call me and Ellie 'Mom' and 'Dad.' No offense. It's...a philosophy we have. 'Mother' and 'Father' are blood, but 'Mom' and 'Dad' describe relationships. And that's the relationship we have with them.”

“I'm glad you do. Really, I am. A bit sad I missed out on a chunk of their lives. But you two really care and I'd like to think that if I'd had to choose, you'd be it. I'd be honored to call you family.”

“How are Alexis and Tim getting along with your own?” Ellie asked.

“Well,” said Darielle pensively, “I think it's a little too soon to say. The twins are fine with it, but Megan's a bit young still. She'll probably adapt. And I do hope your three will be a part of the family, too.”

“You know,” said Ellie, “from time to time, we wondered how things would go. We always knew the odds of finding you were remote, so it was usually more academic than anything. We had a lot of questions, but we seldom bothered to answer many of them. I think we were trying to avoid thinking about what we'd all decided was probably inevitable.”

“But now that we're here and this is a reality?” said Alan. “I think things are going to be...a little weird.”

“Why? It's not like this is unheard of. I mean, let's say you and I were their blood parents, we'd divorced, and then married our current spouses while still remaining on more or less friendly terms with each other. Isn't this a lot like that in a lot of ways?”

Alan thought about that for a minute. “In some ways, sure.”

“Well,” said David, “it is what it is, isn't it?”

“I think,” said Alan, “that this is the beginning of a lot of beautiful friendships.”

“Well,” said Darielle, “welcome home. All of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The rapid-fire archery I reference in the story is meant to be a lot like that of Lars Andersen.
> 
> http://www.outdoorhub.com/stories/2013/07/08/lars-andersen-artist-historian-and-amazing-archer/
> 
> To say that Andersen's skills impress me is somewhat of an understatement! It's something to which I aspire as an archer. Guess I'd better go practice some more, eh? Anyway, I sometimes wonder how 18th and 19th century warfare might have been different had rapid-fire archery persisted as a skillset. Even in the early 1800's being able to fire two rounds per minute with a muzzle-loading rifle was the standard and three rounds per minute was impressive (As dramatized in at least one of the Richard Sharpe movies.). But with rapid-fire archery, you're looking at two rounds per SECOND if you're as good as Lars, one round every five seconds if you're not. Granted, there are other limitations--range, projectile velocity, accuracy, training demands, etc.--but if we focus strictly rounds-per-time, it does make one wonder, especially in a post-apocalyptic scenario. Or, to use what is arguably the most over-used alternate history scenarios, what if the Confederates used rapid-fire archery during the Civil War? Anyway, we could be here all week on that one.... ;-)
> 
>  
> 
> A few words on this story as a whole: I think I realized partway through that it could very easily be a LOT longer than it is! By a factor of three or four, at least. It could also just as easily have been a whole lot grittier, too. I mean, it's post-apoc, right? And that stuff can be really brutal! I held back with a lot of what one's imagination might conjure as far as what our heroes and heroines likely encountered during their trek from Costa Rica back to California, in terms of what they saw, had to do, had to endure, had to decide, and so forth. I really could have beaten them--and my OC's--up a lot more than I did, too. I'm sure I also glossed over some other things that I'm sure I could have explained better, especially since the story takes place over roughly four and a half years. This is the first time I think I've considered putting up a second, expanded version of a story, and I might depending on how this one's received. As if I don't already have enough projects. ;-)


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